Hero of the Dragonborn
by CraftyNarma
Summary: Folkvar, a wandering adventurer/sell sword Nord, finds a fourteen-year-old boy, Link, in the dungeons of a bandits' hideout. Not knowing what to do with the malnourished youth, he decides to take him to the orphanage in Riften. Folkvar isn't counting on getting attached to the curious young teen.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Link had fled Hyrule with Princess Zelda and her nurse, Impa, to make their way to a land over the sea, Tamriel. But before they made port, their ship was attacked by pirates and they were separated. Link was sure that Impa had gotten Zelda out of there in one piece. The shore line was very close so it wouldn't have been far to safety. But Link had been captured and thrown into the pirates' brig.

All Link knew about their whereabouts was that the air got colder. When the pirates made it to port, they grabbed him, put a sack over his head, and lead him through the cold wilderness for a few days. That's when they traded him to bandits, who didn't take off the sack until they reached their hideout, an old abandoned military fort. Then they lead him to the dungeon and roughly shoved him in a cell and left him there with no food or water for a few days.

By the time they gave him water and musty bread, he was severely underweight and starting to get sickly. Somehow, he managed to survive the first week, which painfully turned into the second, then the third, and by the end of the fourth, the bandits started getting used to having him around and started letting him out of the cell every so often.  
Unfortunately, bandits have a tendency to get drunk after a successful raid, and drunk bandits can get violent. They'd throw empty wine and mead bottles at Link, which was bandit for "Hey, whelp, get me more mead." Link had gotten good at dodging the bottles, but they'd still occasionally hit him. The only thing keeping him going was the belief that Zelda was safely at their destination, Cyrodiil.

Link had been there for three years now. At first he had tried to convince himself it wasn't that bad. But the longer it went on, the harder it was to convince himself that it would ever end. Today was a special day for him. Today was the day that the Kokiri celebrated the Deku Festival. It was the biggest holiday of the year. Of course, none of the bandits knew that, or even cared. They'd still beat him and throw things at him if he did anything wrong, like blink at the wrong time or say anything out of turn. He rarely said anything anymore except 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' and 'sorry, sir. It won't happen again, sir'.

Link was sweeping the floor when he heard a group of bandits coming back after a raid. He quickly moved to the shadows and kept sweeping. He hated it when the bandits raided neighboring villages. Mostly because of the stories he heard them gloating about when they came back victorious. They'd brag about how many women they 'had' or how many guards they killed. Link had mixed feelings about when they came back defeated. On one hand, a failed raid meant not as many innocent people were hurt, but on the other, the distraught bandits seemed to find it uplifting to hear him scream and beg for mercy as they beat him severely.

This time they were defeated and Link felt as if a cold hand had just tightened around his throat. The bandits were looking for him so they could at least feel like they had power over someone. Link just hoped that for once they'd drink their defeat away and leave him alone.

"Whelp!" The bandit chief snarled. He had spotted him, sweeping diligently away in a dark corner. Link felt the cold hand tighten it's grip. He could barely breathe he was so scared. "I'm talking to you, you son of a bitch." The chief stalked toward him and grabbed a fist full his orange blond hair. Link dropped the broom on the ground and whimpered. Link had lost control over his tears months ago and they now freely fell down his face.

_In the game, Ocarina of Time, Link is put into a deep sleep for seven years, much like the Disney princess, Sleeping Beauty. This happens because at the age of ten he is not tall enough to wield the Master Sword, a hand-and-half legendary sword imbued with the power of the Goddesses._

Folkvar had been hired by the captain of the guard in Rorikstead to clear an old military fort of bandits. The job payed well so Folkvar took it. The bandits had been raiding the captain's town for years sometimes the town guard fought back the attack, sometimes it didn't if the traveling sell sword was triumphant, the bandits wouldn't be bothering anyone ever again.

Recently, Folkvar was being plagued by a strange dreams. He had had the same dream three times now and he was starting to find it annoying. He had no one to talk to about it other than his horse, Alfsigr since he preferred to keep mostly to himself. So that morning he found himself saddling Alfsigr while telling her in detail about his dream that night.  
"It was the same as the last two nights," he grunted. Alfsigr didn't say anything because horses can't talk. "I'm approach by three women, one's green, another's blue, and the third's red. Strange color for women to be. They tell me that they need my help and then they disappear. They are replaced by a child's face and then I wake up. What do you think it means, lass?"

Alfsigr just snorted and stamped the ground with her hoof.

"Not one for talking, eh?" Folkvar laughed. "Me either." He mounted his horse and rode off down the road to the fortress.

_If you ask the stable master of Whiterun about his horses, he'll tell you that he's just got the one for sale and her name is Queen Alfsigr, or Allie for short._

It had been a week since the last failed raid and Link had nearly given up hope of rescue. He had started to pray to the Goddesses of Hyrule, wondering why he had never thought of that before. Probably because last time he had prayed to them they had had to flee the burning Castle Town because he wasn't strong enough to save them. That night, after he was done praying to the Goddesses, he curled up in a corner of his cell with a musty old blanket wrapped around his small, malnourished frame. Right before he nodded off into nightmare filled sleep, Link heard a sound different than the ones he had grown accustomed too. It wasn't a sound from one of his nightmares, but it wasn't a bandit shouting for him, ready to assert his dominance by beating something, usually Link. It was the sound of a battle and it sounded like the bandits were loosing.

Link pushed himself closer to the cold, stone wall and hoped that whomever was waging war against the bandits would check the dungeons as well. The guard who was assigned of watching him that night looked just as scared as Link normally felt. Link silently enjoyed seeing the bandit wet himself, when normally it was Link who was shivering from fear. But Link still felt scared. What if it's a rival bandit gang attacking? They might keep Link as spoils of war, or just kill him, or leave him to starve to death in an abandoned dungeon.

The bandit's sword was shaking in his hands, the way Link's broom would shake when he knew he was about to get a severe beating. Link heard the bandit pray to the gods of this land. Link didn't think that that would help. Just then, the door, which the bandit had already locked, burst open and a man, full of battle rage and covered in blood stamped into the room. His feet made nary a noise on the stone and his breath was heavy and so hot you could see it. Between the eye holes in his horned helmet, the warriors bright blue eyes glistened as if he could kill with a glare, and was ready to, if need be. The warrior's eyes met with Link's hopeful ones.

"Lad," that was the first kind word anyone had directed at Link in three years. "You might want to close your eyes for this part." Link closed his eyes fiercely and huddled tighter into the musty blanket. He heard the bandit fall with in seconds, but he still didn't open his eyes. He was waiting for someone to kick him awake and for it to just be a dream.  
Moments passed and Link heard the door of his cell open and a pair of hands rested on his shoulders. The first friendly contact he had had in over three years.

"You can open your eyes now, lad," the warrior said. "It's over." Link opened his eyes and looked up at the man. He was big, bigger than most of the bandits. His hair was dark blond and messy from under his helmet. He had a messy beard as well. His hands were strong but they weren't going to hurt him. Link could tell. But the boy still felt slightly afraid. The man took of his helmet so Link could see his face. His face was covered in dirt and blood and had scars and Link could tell he was hiding an inner pain. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Link just mumbled quietly and looked down.

"I'm Folkvar," The man grunted.

"Link," Link realized he hadn't spoken his name out loud in a long time.

"Well them, Link," Folkvar helped Link get to his feet. "Let's get out of here."  
Link nodded and stumbled out of the fort with Folkvar.

Since Folkvar only had one horse Link had to ride in front of Folkvar. Folkvar noticed that Link shivered when his frial body met with the fresh air of Skyrim and the boy's cloths were thread bear, so he wrapped Link in his blanket and threw away the musty one. They rode to Rorikstead in silence. Link looked absorbed in all of the scenery. He hadn't seen the outside world since being captured by the pirates, and that was just the coast line. He wanted to ask Folkvar if he was dreaming and he'd wake up in the morning to beatings and manual labor, but he didn't know how Folkvar would respond.

Folkvar remained silent; lost deep in thought. This was the child from his nightmare.

They arrived back at Rorikstead by sunset. The captain of the guard approached the two riders with a grim expression on his face. Folkvar dismounted Alfsigr but left Link on the horse. Folkvar felt uneasy, though he always felt uneasy. It was just how he did basically everything. Link silently observed Folkvar's interactions with the guard.

"The bandits won't bother you anymore," Folkvar grunted.

"Excellent," the captain looked relieved. "Here's your pay."

"I found this child," Folkvar folded his arms and nodded behind him.

"He's not one of ours," the guard eyed the nervous boy wearily. "He an elf?"

Folkvar turned to look at Link. "Where're you from, lad?"

"Kokiri Forest, sir," Link answered. "East of Hyrule."

"Where might that be, boy?" The guard snapped.

"I-I-I-I," Link started to panic. He hadn't expected the people of Tamriel to not know about Hyrule. He looked down at Alfisgr's mane and took a deep breath. "There was a coup and we had to flee but we were attacked by pirates and I don't know about the others."

"So you're not an elf?"

"No, sir," Link said. "There aren't any elves in Hyrule."

"I envy Hyrule," the guard remarked. He then walked off to tell his men that they can reclaim the fort in the morning.

"You wouldn't if you saw Castle Town in flames," Link whispered.

He hadn't intended for anyone to hear, but Folkvar did. He felt pity for the boy. Link had probably lost everything in one night and gone through who knows what while he was the bandits' slave. But Folkvar only felt the pity long enough to start feeling slightly more responsible for Link's wellbeing than he did a few seconds ago.

"We'll stay in the Frostfruit inn for tonight, lad," Folkvar looked up at the sky to discern the time. "We'll decide what to do with you in the morning."

Link nodded his head in agreement. "Thank you, sir."

Folkvar grunted and helped Link get down from Alfsigr. The two made their way into the inn down the street after Folkvar loosened his horses saddle. Link stayed a few paces behind Folkvar and had his arms folded defensively across his chest.

"Two rooms," Folkvar put twenty gold coins. He looked down at Link, who had left the blanket with Alfsigr. The cold was already starting affect him again. "And do you happen to have any spare cloths that might fit the lad?"

The inn keeper, Mralki, eyed Link skeptically. "Yeah. I've got some of Erik's old cloths in the cellar. I'll go and get some. But it'll cost ya extra."

Folkvar grunted and put ten more coins on the table.

"I'll be right back," he said. He turned and went down to the cellar. A few moments later he came back up with a green tunic and a pair of dark brown pants. He placed them on the table. "You're room's are over there." He nodded his head to the two doors to his right. His tone made it clear that he was not willing to serve them much more.

Folkvar took the cloths and lead Link to one of the rooms. "Change in there, lad. I'll get us something to eat."

"Yes, sir," Link took the cloths and entered his room. There was a wardrobe, a dresser, and a simple bed. The room wasn't five star, but to Link, it was the nicest place he'd ever stayed.

As Link changed into the warmer cloths, he heard yelling coming from out side in the main room.

"If you where a true son of Skyrim," it was the inn keeper. "You wouldn't be helping that mer! I wouldn't trust him. All his kind are the same."

"The lad's not an elf," Folkvar rumbled. His deep voice was full of strength. "He said so himself. He's from over the seas."

"And how do you know there even is a place over the seas?" The inn keeper snapped back. "I have half a mind to turn you both out right now. No true Nord... No, no true human would associate themselves with his kind!"

"Father!" A new voice intervened. "That's enough. They're paying customers and that's never stopped you from serving people before. I'm sorry, sir. My father fought in the Great War."

"Erik, you don't need to..." The inn keeper protested.

"I'll go and get you two something to eat and something to drink," Erik ignored his father.

Link left his room to find Folkvar staring angrily at the inn keeper. Folkvar had changed out of his heavier armor and was wearing a dark traveling clock with the hood down. The inn keeper's son came up from the cellar with some food and two drinks.

"Bread, venison soup, a tankard of Black-Briar Mead, and a tankard of goats milk," Erik placed the food on a table far away from his father. Folkvar sat down on the edge of the bench and Link hurried over to sit across from him.

"Please ignore my father's rudeness," Erik said. "If you need anything, just ask me." He nodded politely to Folkvar and returned to his place next to the door.

Link looked at the plate of food in front of him for a few moments before he hastily started eating. Folkvar, who was not eating nearly as fast as Link, raised an eyebrow. Link noticed this and his face reddened. He slowed down and remembered the manners that Saria had taught him years ago.

"Sorry, sir," he mumbled through a mouthful of soup.

"When was the last time you had a decent meal, lad?" Folkvar asked.

"Um... I dunno, sir," he shrugged and started eating again. Folkvar snorted.

When they finished their meal, Link started to nod off onto the table. Mralki polished a tankard maliciously and glared at the back of the boy's head. Folkvar lightly tapped Link's shoulder. Link groggily lifted his head.

"Time for bed, lad," Folkvar prompted.

"M'kay," Link pushed himself away from the table with his arms and he and Folkvar went to there respective rooms.

While Link lay awake staring at the ceiling in his bed he tried not to think about Folkvar had said after the guard left. We'll find out what to do with you in the morning. Link dreaded Folkvar abandoning him. He knew that was the most likely action for Folkvar to take since he and Link were compleat strangers. What if Folkvar dropped him off at the nearest orphanage and he never saw him again? Link tried not to think about it and went to sleep.

Folkvar was never a heavy sleeper. His nights were mostly filled with the horrors of his past or keeping watch for saber cats. So it came as no surprise when he again saw the three women while he slept.

_They approached him silently. He couldn't take his eyes off of them. One was glowing blue, another green, and the last red. The blue woman had on a loose robe that reminded Folkvar of a mage's robe. Her hair was pulled up in braid and her face emanated beauty and knowledge. The green one was the youngest and wore a long tunic tied together with vines. Her hair was long and loose. The third, the oldest, wore battle armor and had cropped hair. Her eyes were fierce where her friends' calm and her brows were furrowed with anger._  
We need you're help, _their voices chorused together and made the most beautiful sound._

They faded and Folkvar dreamed no more that night.

_The three Goddesses of Hyrule are Din, Nayru, and Farore. In the creation story of Hyrule it is said that Dim, with her strength, forged the red earth, Farore, with her love, brought life to the land, and Nayru, with her knowledge, brought order._

When Folkvar woke that morning, the face of the boy he had saved was burned fiercely into the back of his mind. He tried to shake the feeling. He was never one for superstition. The divines had abandoned him when he needed them the most so he found no need for loyalty to theme. And him repeatedly seeing the same thing in a dream was nothing new. He often relieved the same horrors from his past whenever he slept. He returned to his morning routine. Check to make sure he hadn't been robbed while he slept, get out of bed, retrieve his dagger from under the pillow, put his armor on, pull his traveling cloak on over that, buckle his great sword onto his back, sling his bow over one shoulder, sling his pack over the other shoulder, buckle his knife and quiver full of arrows to his belt, and leave the room.

It was then that he saw the boy. Link was sitting at a table close to their rooms and was eating some bread and cheese rather forlornly and sipping from another tankard of goat's milk. He looked up at Folkvar with a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. Folkvar sighed and walked over to Erik, who was manning the inn this morning in place of his father.

"How much do I owe you for the food?" He pulled out his wallet.

"Five septems," Erik said.

"Do you think you might have a coat or heavy cloak that would fit him?"

Erik pulled a smallish cloak out from under the counter, as if he already had it ready. "It's on the house. Just don't tell my old man."

Folkvar nodded. "Lad." He put a hand on Link's shoulder. "Time to leave."

"Yes, sir," Link finished the goat milk in one last swig and took the cloak from Folkvar and pulled it over his shoulders. Together, they left the inn.

"Folkvar, sir?" Link asked; his head down.

"Hum?" Folkvar acknowledged.

"What's gonna happen to me now?" Link kicked a rock down the street as Folkvar tightened Alfsigr's saddle.

"I can't take you in , lad," Folkvar announced.

"Oh," Link felt his heart break a little.

"There's an orphanage Riften," Folkvar said absentmindedly. He hadn't really let himself think about it until just now. "It's run a by an old woman. People call her Grelod the Kind."

"That... That sounds nice," Link felt his heart break completely in two. He tried not to let Folkvar see him crying. He tried not to cry at all but that was really hard.

"It's a few days ride from here," Folkvar turned to Link, to see him trying fruitlessly to hide his his tears. This put Folkvar into a kind of panic. He didn't know how to deal with children who started crying. He quickly reached into his pack and pulled out a spare dagger, one can never have too many weapons when living in Skyrim, and handed it to Link. "In case we get attacked I want you to be able to defend yourself."

Link sniffled and whipped away his tears on his sleeve. He nodded and took the dagger and attached it to his new belt. Folkvar picked Link up and placed him in front of Alfsigr's saddle. He then mounted his horse himself and the two were off down the road to Whiterun, the nearest city on the road to their destination.

In the game, Skyrim, Grelod the Kind only has one point of HP, meaning you can kill her with one punch. This starts the Dark Brotherhood quest line.

They made it a little over half way to Whiterun by the time the sun started to get low on the horizon. Folkvar found a decent camping place and started setting up camp. He made a makeshift sleeping roll out of his spare blanket and told Link to sleep in his sleeping roll.

"I'm going to gather fire wood," Folkvar stood up.

"Can I help, sir?" Link asked.

Folkvar looked at Link for a moment before turning to leave. He beckoned for Link to follow. Link eagerly scurried after him. Link diligently gathered dry wood while Folkvar scanned the woods for anything that might prove to be a threat or food or both. The last option was the most common thing to find in Skyrim, if you weren't to picky when it came to what you put in your soup.

When Link's arms we full of good fire wood he looked up at Folkvar, who nodded and the two went back to the camp. Folkvar hadn't seen any signs of nearby bandits or other nasty things that were attracted to fire, so he lit a fire and started to cook a stew out of dried food he had in his pack. The two travelers sat in silence while the food cooked.

The next morning was also spent in silence. Link noticed that Folkvar liked quiet. Folkvar appreciated that Link respected his need for quiet. But Link couldn't hold in his excitement when he saw Whiterun in the distance.

"Folkvar!" He turned to look up at the bulky Nord. "I've never seen a place so huge! Not even Hyrule Castle Town was that big."

"Solitude is bigger," Folkvar grunted. "But, aye. It used to be the golden city of Skyrim, but there's a civil war going on and no one is benefiting too much from it."

"Civil wars are bad," Link said. Folkvar grunted in agreement. Nothing else was spoken until they reached the Whiterun stable where Folkvar had to arrange for Alfsigr's stay that night with the stable master, who was the one who raised her. Then they where stopped in front of the gates by a pair of guards.

"Halt, strangers," the guard said. "Only those with business with the jarl can enter the city."

"We are only here to restock our supplies and rest our heads at the inn," Folkvar tried to reason with the man.

"With that many weapons?" The guard sounded annoyed.

"We don't mean any harm," Folkvar said. "I'm a traveler. Surely you understand how dangerous it is to travers through Skyrim. Especially now, with the war on."

"That's what I'm worried about. Whiterun wants no part of this war, and mean to keep it that way. How do I know that your not spies, here to map the city?"

"Aren't there enough maps of Whiterun already?" Folkvar asked. "And I've got a child with me. The more nights we spend inside a building the better."

"You can go through," the other guard finely said. "My friend here is just doing his job."

"I appreciate it," Folkvar nodded. The guard opened the gate and the two travelers entered the city. Link was even more impressed with the city up close than he was when it was far away. There was a smithy to the right of the gates and a woman was working the forge. Up the path was a hunter's shop. The road went further up to a market square. But Link was too interested in what the black smith was making. Without realizing it, he found himself wandering closer to the forge. Just close enough to feel some of the heat wafting off of the coal, but not close enough to alert the smith of his presence; until Folkvar called out to him.

"Link, we're going up to the market."

"Okay, sir," Link hurried off after the older man. The smith looked up from her forge to watched as the boy scamper off down the street. She saw a sword master ready to bloom in him. She put her work on hold and started up the street to the Skyforge in Jorrvaskr.

"Two rooms," Folkvar placed twenty septems in front of Hulda, the proprietor of the Bannered Mare Inn in Whiterun.

"We've only got one room available," Hulda said. "A double bed on the second floor."

Folkvar thought for a moment. He looked over that Link, who was sitting on a bench, warming himself by the fire while listening to the bard, Mikeal, play on the flute. He looked content, but melancholy. Folkvar sighed and took five of the septems from off the table and ordered a tankard of mead.

After Folkvar was done with the mead he took Link across the marketplace to Belethor's General Goods to get him a sleeping roll and some other supplies he'd need to travel with Folkvar to Riften, like a bag and a change of cloths.

"Have you got any traveling supplies?" Folkvar asked Belethor. "It's for the boy." He nodded his head behind him towards Link, who was eyeing a wooden wind instrument sitting on a shelf with intense interest.

"I might have something..." Belethor looked very interested in what Link was doing. He was probably worried Link might break something. "You interested in that, boy? Haven't been able to sell it. No one knows how to play it. Got it from some traders a while back, said it's called... An ocarina, or something."

"I had one of these," Link sounded distant. "It was just like this one. It was from a close friend. I lost it about three years ago."

"Tell you what," Belethor said. "I'll give it to you for half price."

"We don't need it," Folkvar said. "Just some cloths, a bag, a bowl, and a sleeping roll." Folkvar looked behind him, where Link was still staring intensely at the ocarina. He reached out a hand and touched it gently, as if he was afraid it would vanish. When it didn't, he picked it up in both his hands and placed his fingers on the holes. He looked over his shoulder at Folkvar and Belethor.

"May I play something, sir?" He asked.

"Go right ahead," Belethor said. "Alway's wanted to know what it sounded like."

"Thank you, sir," Link placed the mouthpiece to his lips and started to play. It was a very happy song. It made Folkvar feel like he was in a forest that was not infested with things that would kill in an instant. For a moment, Link felt as if everything that had happened to him during the last four years had never happened at all and he had never left the forest and the Great Deku Tree had never died. He felt as though Saria, his best friend in the whole wide world, was standing right next to him. When he finished the song and opened his eyes he knew this was his ocarina. The one Saria had given him when he left the woods.

Link looked directly into Belethor's eyes and said, "Are you sure you didn't get this illegally three years ago?"

Belethor laughed nervously. "You know what, kid? I think you should keep that you play it so well. It's on the house." He turned back to Folkvar, who was internally in a state of surprise, but externally a model of indifference. "I've got just what you need in back. I'll just go and get it. Oh, and if you ever need to get rid of anything you acquired legally, I'd be happy to pay for it."

Folkvar crossed his arms and nodded his thanks.

When all was payed for, Folkvar sent Link back to the Bannered Mare and made his way up to the Cloud District of the city, where the Jarl lived. He had something to ask someone.

He got past the guards easily enough; they didn't ask him what he business he had in Dragonsreach. When he entered the building he made his way directly to the court wizard's quarters. Farengar Secret-Fire, the resident expert on all things magical and scholarly, was sitting at his desk, pouring over a book, when Folkvar knocked on the door frame. Farengar looked up to see an old friend he hadn't seen in over twenty-five years.

"Folkvar?" The wizard stood up and looked closely at the man. "The last time I saw you, you were going to ask your old sweetheart to marry you! How did that go?"

"Not well," Folkvar snapped. His did not look like he was in the mood for catching up with old friends. "I need to ask you something."

"What do you need?" Farengar looked sad that his friend was in a sour mood, but he was still willing to help.

"What information have you got on the land called Hyrule?" Folkvar crossed him arms.

"Well," Farengar said, "I've recently gotten my hands on a book written by an adventurer who traveled there with a group of merchants. It's a smallish continent and the people there are very diverse. Apparently, at the moment it is ruled by a tyrant Sorcerer King called Ganondorf, the Prince of Evil. He started a coup d'état a little over three years ago by killing the old king with dark magic and chasing the king's daughter, his onlchildless and rightful hier to the throne, out of the country. I've heard rumors that she fled to Cyrodiil but they had some trouble with pirates and I'm not sue what happened to her."

"Thanks," Folkvar said. He turned to leave, but before he exited the wizard's quarters he looked over his shoulder at Farengar. "It was nice seeing you again, Farengar."

_In the Ocarina of Time Manga, it is reveled that Link dropped Saria's ocarina when he is hit by Ganon's black magic. Ganon takes it, thinking it is Zelda's fabled Ocarina of Time._

Link sat in a chair in a corner of the Bannered Mare. The dark skinned woman, Saadia, had given him some milk and a slice of bread with melted cheese on it. He thanked her politely, but tried to decline it, saying he and no money on him. She smiled and told him it was on her. Link smiled back and thanked her politely.

There was a gust of wind as Folkvar walked back into the inn. He spotted Link quickly and went over to him. Hulda told Saadia to serve Folkvar. She went over to him and took his order of bear stew.

"You have a sweet son," Saadia told him. She smiled at Link.

"He's not my son," Folkvar grunted. He folded his arms and leaned back his chair. Link gloomily continued to eat his bread and cheese.

Later that night Link lay in the bed while Folkvar sat in one of the chairs. Folkvar was fiddling with his bow and arrows. Link knew that he shouldn't feel as attached to Folkvar as he did because he had only known him for a few days and they had barely spoken at all. But Link had felt very sad when Folkvar corrected Saadia about him being Link's father. Link hadn't noticed before how much they looked alike. They both and blond hair and blue eyes. Link fell asleep fantasizing about how his real father could have been like Folkvar, but more elvish.

Folkvar grumbled to himself about how there was only one room open. He didn't sleep that night, but he did watch Link curl up into the fetal position. Link's small body quivered slightly as he breathed. He looked relatively peaceful in his sleep. Folkvar thought about what it was that made Saadia think Link was his son. The boy did not quite look like a high elf, but he definitely looked more mer than man. Link's face was angular and soft, like a nord/high elf mix while Folkvar's face was strong and defined, like a full blooded Nord. Link's hair was orange-gold and naturally neater than Folkvar's messy dirty blond mane. According to Folkvar, there was no family resemblance.

The next morning Folkvar gently shook Link awake and the the two made their way down the stairs. Link, as usual, was a few steps behind Folkvar. Like the boy was hiding behind Nord. Hulda looked up from where she was cleaning some of her fancier plates.

"Eorlund Gray-Mane was looking for you two," Hulda said in passing. "He mentioned you both by name."

"Thanks," Folkvar said as he exited the building. He looked down at Link, who was watching the people around the city go about their business. "Eorlund is an old friend of mine." Folkvar explained. "He must have heard we're in the city. Though, how he learned your name is a mystery."

"Are we gonna go and see him, sir?" Link asked. He had his bag clutched across his chest with both arms.

"I suppose we should," Folkvar said. "He's up at the Skyforge." Folkvar turned up the street and went up to the Skyforge. The Skyforge was behind Jorrvaskr, a mead hall with an upside down boat as a roof. It was home to the group of mercenaries called the Companions. Some of the Companions who saw Folkvar and Link looked at them skeptically while others payed them no heed.

When they made it to the top Link saw the smith who had been working at the forge when they entered the city as well as an old man who was stoking the fire. She must have heard Link's name when Folkvar called to him yesterday. The man looked up from his work when the woman stopped talking. She walked up to Link and Folkvar and got right to the point.

"Link, right?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Link said.

"Why are you using a dagger, boy?" She said.

"Folkvar gave it too me," Link said. He moved a little bit behind Folkvar and peek out form behind him. "So I can defend myself."

"You'd be better off with a sword and shield," the woman said. "I've asked Eorlund to make you something with the Skyforge."

"Thank you," Link said meekly as the woman made her way back to her forge.

Folkvar folded his arms and looked Eorlund directly in the eyes. "Eorlund, you're the best blacksmith in Skyrim, I can't afford your steel."

"Are you growing miserly, old friend? You've got more than enough. Though I won't make you pay," Eorlund looked Link over with a calculating eye. "He's built to be a warrior, Folkvar. You can see it too. It's obvious."

"Being a warrior is a Vasari and violent profession, Eorlund," Folkvar responded. "The path of the warrior may only be for a few. Many who travel it regret it later on. Besides, the lad's not my responsibility. I lead a life full of death and destruction. That no place for a child."

"But, sir," Link tugged on Folkvar's traveling cloak's sleeve and looked up at the large man with pleading eyes. "I need to know how to defend myself and the people I care about or I'll just fail again." Folkvar looked down at the boy's pleading face.

"The boy can't do that without proper weapons and armor," Eorlund added. "I'm willing to make those for him."

"He has a dagger," Folkvar grunted. He turned away from Eorlund and put his hands on Link's shoulders and proceeded to lead him down the path.

"Folkvar," Eorlund called after him. "The offer still stands. You see the fire in his eyes too. It is hard to miss."

_The Skyforge is the only place where you can made nordic hero and Skyforge steel weapons and armor. There is no mace made of Skyforge steel (which is annoying as I prefer maces over swords and axes and hammers)._

Folkvar lead Link to the stables where Alfsigr had rested that night. He left Link outside of the stable's and proceeded to groom and saddle his horse. When he lead Alfsigr out of her stall, he found Link sitting on the fence of the paddock petting a shaggy, bay pony. He had a big grin on his face. He looked up and saw Folkvar waiting for him. He jumped down off the fence and went over to Folkvar.

"Folkvar, sir?" Link said.

Folkvar grunted in acknowledgment.

"How come you don't want me to have a sword and shield?" Link said.

"Because they're dangerous," Folkvar said bluntly.

"Okay," Link passively looked over at the shaggy pony in the paddock. Folkvar noticed this and sighed.

He turned to the stable master and said, "How much to borrow the pony?" Link looked noticeably happier that they were getting a new addition to the traveling group.

"You'll have to buy the tack," the stable master said. "And pay five hundred septems. All together that's about six hundred septems plus a hundred septems as a deposit. You return him in one piece and I'll give you back the deposit."

"Understood," Folkvar forked over a big bag of septems and the stable master saddle the pony and brought him over to Link.

"His name's Dapple. He'll be good to you if you're good to him," the stable master handed Link the reins and gave him a light smile. Dapple nuzzled Link and Link responded by rubbing the pony's nose. The stable master laughed, "But I think you two'll get along just fine."

The two rode down the path in silence. Link was still busy being awed by the beauty of Skyrim. He marveled at the clouds and the trees and the mountains. Hyrule just had one big mountain and much smaller mountain ranges. There was one huge mountain to the east. Link was sure it was so huge that you could see it from all four corners of Skyrim.

"Sir?" Link asked timidly.

"Aye, lad?" Folkvar responded.

"What's that big mountain?" Link pointed to their left.

Folkvar gave the mountain a passing glance. "That's the Throat of the World. The tallest mountain in Skyrim and all of Tamriel as well. The Greybeards live in a temple at the top called High Hrothgar. People make pilgrimages there."

"Who are the Greybeards, sir?"

"They're monks who follow what they call the Way of the Voice. They watch the world go by and do very little to help. They'll occasionally interfere, but only of it's apocalyptic."

"What's the Voice, sir?"

"You ask quite a lot of questions, lad." Folkvar grunted harshly.

"Sorry, sir," Link looked down at Dapple's mane and patted the little pony to make himself feel better. A few moments of tense silence passed.

"Thorig's beard, lad!" Folkvar snapped guiltily. "The Voice is the language of the dragons. It hold's great power and those who know it have the potential to rule the world. But it takes years to master a single word. The Greybeards speak it fluently, along with all the dragons. That's why they keep to themselves."

Link remained silent. He was looking down at his last hand. He gripped the reins tighter and looked back up at the Throat of the World. He felt a shiver run up his back and a knot in his throat tightened. He thought about what Folkvar said about power.

When the sun started to go down Folkvar desperately searched for a good place to camp. Caves were definitely out of the question as they were normally inhabited by bandits, bears, trolls, draugr, or other dangerous creatures. The side of the road was open to robbers, more bandits, more bears, saber cats, dragons, more trolls, and more and more things that would like to kill him and the boy. As a matter of fact, the entire province of Skyrim was full of things that would like nothing better than to kill, maybe even eat, Folkvar, Link, and any other traveler. Folkvar had no plans of being one of the many travelers who met their end out in the wilderness of the frozen land.

Behind them was Riverwood, but it was a few hours ride, unless they rode fast. Even then, it was cutting it close. Ahead, and much closer, was Helgen. But Helgen had been hit by a dragon. Folkvar knew this because he had been there. There was no telling what now inhabited the ruins of the once prosperous town. List of monstrous dangers ran through Folkvar's head. He looked next to him where Link sat on his little pony, fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of his cloak. He was quiet, unaware of all the dangers that potentially threatened his life every second they spent outside of the safety of a town. But the sun was going down fast and Folkvar had two choices, unknown dangers in Helgen, but the potential safety of walls and what ever was left of the buildings, or the side of the road, where they could still be attacked by unknown dangers but would not have the safety of walls.

"Lad," Folkvar said gruffly.

"Yes, sir?" Link looked up at Folkvar, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"We're going to continue on to the ruins of Helgen," Folkvar grunted.

"What happened to Helgen, sir?" Link asked.

"I'll tell you when we get there," Folkvar said.

Folkvar was prepared for anything, so the bandits weren't to much of a surprise. If anything, they where a relief. Bandits weren't too hard to deal with, especially if one was preparing for a dragon or two. Folkvar had considered giving Link his longbow, but it's draw was to heavy and it was a foot too tall for him, so he left the boy with the horses around the bend while he took on the bandits. Link didn't complain and ask to help, which made Folkvar happy. He was still a little tightly strung about Link wanting armor and weapons. Folkvar dispatched the bandits quickly and made sure that Link wouldn't have to step over any of the dead bodies that littered the ground, including the burnt corpses from the dragon attack that the bandits hadn't cleared away. The place still smelled of stale death, but it was safe.

They tied up the horses at what remained of the stables and where camped inside the keep, which was mostly intact as it was huge. Folkvar suspected that the Imperials had used it as a second base from Solitude to Cyrodiil. There were beds, but they where musty and covered in gravel so they lay their mats on the ground near their fire. Link looked only slightly uncomfortable. Folkvar would never even dream of showing discomfort, or anything else that could characterize him as anything but a grizzly bear.

"Sir," Link mumbled. "What happened here?"

"A dragon," Folkvar grunted. "Few people made it out alive."

"Oh," Link huddled in a little ball and shivered. "There are dragons in Hyrule too, but they're mostly in the mountain regions. They're also mostly feral and avoid contact with people unless we make them angry. I found a baby one in a market once and set him free. But he followed me. I don't know what happened to him."

"I'm assuming that Hylian dragons and the dragons of Tamriel are very different. Dragons here are deadly and power hungry. They raise villages like this because they can. Most people in Skyrim thought dragons where just a myth. Until now. They are not feral, like bears. They are intelligent. More intelligent than man. And immortal. If your see a dragon, Link, I want you to hide and do not come out again until it's safe. Understand?"  
"Yes, sir," Link mumbled. He found it hard to imagine anything that was naturally peaceful in his land to be fierce in this one. Though then again, in Holodrum, a neighboring country to Hyrule, there were bears that would let you ride them if you gave them a banana. The two continents where like polar opposites. The only time Hyrule was like Skyrim was when dark magics plagued the land. Link imagined that dark magic now plagued Hyrule under Ganon's tyrannical reign and it was all Link's fault.

Link brooded for what felt like an eternity. Folkvar sat and kept watch in case the bandits had friends. He was confident that if anything happened, it would get the horses first and they could retreat farther into the keep. But you never know. He glanced at Link to find him gently snoring in front of the fire. Folkvar sighed and got up. He walked over and lifted the boy in his arms and placed him in his sleeping roll. He picked himself up and walked over to a hole in the wall and looked up at the night sky. The full moon was shrouded in mist and the Northern Lights. When Folkvar finally went to sleep, he dreamed of a happier time in his life.

The next morning Folkvar shook Link awake and the two packed up their camp and set off down the road. Link looked more on edge than he had been before the dragon story. He was glancing from the road to the sky nervously as of a dragon would swop down at any moment and attack. Folkvar was also on alert. He didn't want to tell the boy that they just so happened to be passing right under a dragon's perch. Fortunately, dragons normally slept unless they sensed a great presence or were attacked. Folkvar hoped that the dragon at Autumnwatch Tower had no intention of attacking.

Folkvar remained tense for the entire stretch of the road where the dragon could notice them and Link seemed to pick up on Folkvar's fear and became even more nervous. He gripped his left hand tighter in the reins and looked down. His Triforce was glowing. It wasn't supposed to glow unless it sensed another part of the Triforce or a powerful or malicious presence. Suddenly, there was a great roar and all the near by trees shuddered. Link felt all the color drain form his face. There was a dragon and it had undoubtedly spotted them.

"Link." Folkvar hissed. "Hide. Now." Link leapt off of Dapple, who bolted the moment Link was safely on the ground. Link found a tree with low branches and huddled against the trunk. Folkvar took up his bow and found some smaller cover for himself. Link was amazed that Folkvar could even consider fighting a dragon after what he had told him about dragons and how dangerous they were. Link gulped and drew his own dagger, though he wasn't sure what good it would do against something that could make a noise that loud.

Link watched Folkvar notch and arrow and stand ready for when the dragon to come into range. The pounding in the air grew more intense and the dragon swooped and roared once more before hovering over the road. Folkvar pulled back the bow spring expertly and fired his arrow. It lodged in between the dragon's scales. The dragon roared in anger and opened it maw. It breathed cold breath at Folkvar, who dove behind a rock. When the dragon flew off again and Folkvar peeked out from behind the rock, his hair was caked with frost but he was mostly unharmed, if not a little chilly.

Folkvar notched another arrow and aimed it at the dragon that was circling over head. The game of cat and mouse continued until Folkvar managed to lodge an arrow into the dragon's eye, forcing it to land. It landed in a place that Link couldn't see from his hiding place so he quietly inched around the trunk for a better view. When the dragon and Folkvar came into new they where locked in close combat. Folkvar was nimbly sticking his sword in between the the dragon's scaly armor while avoiding the dragon's frosty breath and razor sharp claws and teeth.

Link silently rooted for Folkvar from his hiding place. Everything was going well. Link was sure that Folkvar would eventually kill the dragon and then everything would be fine. Folkvar dodged one way, while the dragon went another. And the dragon got Folkvar right in the chest with its tail. Folkvar was sent flying and crashed not a tree. Link covered his mouth to hold back a scream. He resisted the urge to run to Folkvar to see if he was okay.  
The dragon lumbered over to the figure lying prone on the ground. It hissed something in its own language and opened its jaws to either devour Folkvar or freeze him. Link didn't wait to find out. He clutched the little dagger in his hand and charged. He ran right up the dragon's tail and down its back. He reached the dragon's head and squeezed his knees behind the dragon's jaw so it couldn't shake him off, though it did try. The dragon lashed around so hard that Link felt as though he would be sick. It screeched angrily and breathed frost.

Link took the dagger in both hands and lifted it over his head as best he could. He brought it down into the dragon's only good eyes effectively blinding it. The dagger was ripped from his hands as the dragon clawed at its face. Link screamed and fell of the dragon and landed on the hard ground. He landed next to Folkvar's huge two handed sword. Link looked up to see the dragon bring its head down blindly on top of him. Link grabbed Folkvar's sword and proper it point up between him and the impending dragon. The sword went right through the dragon's skull. The dragon's head lost momentum and slowly came to a stop, right before it crushed Link. Link huddled into a little ball and the head fell to side harmlessly.

A rumbling noise came from the dragon and it grew in heat. The dragon's flesh lit on fire and it's essence rushed out of its body. It went straight into Folkvar, who was still laying motionless in the ground. Link pulled himself up and ran to him.

"Folkvar?" Link shook the burly man's shoulder. "Folkvar, wake up!" He shouted. Folkvar groaned and sat up slowly.

"Lad?" He looked around in a slight daze. "What happened to the dragon?"

"It hit you with it's tail and it was gonna eat you and I panicked and I'm sorry, sir!" Link explained hurriedly. He glanced back at the dragon's skeleton. Folkvar followed his gaze ads put two and two together.

"Link," the man scolded. "I gave you explicit instructions to hide. Dragons are dangerous."

"But it was gonna eat you!" Link cried. He leaned forward and hugged Folkvar as best as he could. His arms didn't reach that far around the big man, but it was an effort. Folkvar was stunned that the boy could cry about him getting eaten. It wasn't like they were friends or anything.

"I've had worse," Folkvar pried Link off of him. "We have to find the horses and get back on the road. We've wasted valuable time." Link sniffled and nodded in agreement. He silently cursed himself for showing so much emotion in front of such a stoic man like Folkvar.

After Link collected his dagger from the remains of the dragon and helped Folkvar find arrows that could still be used, he looked for Dapple. The horse had run back towards Helgen. Alfsigr was closer. Link figured it was because she was more used to adventurous exploits like getting attacked by dragons. Later, as they road in please down the road to Riften, Link wondered why the lights came from the dragon and went into Folkvar. He wanted to ask, but Folkvar was probably very angry with him. He was sure Folkvar wouldn't hit him or anything, but his past experiences with people made him wary of any amount of anger directed towards him; or even around him. Folkvar must have noticed that Link had something on his mind because he glanced down at the boy and sighed.

"What is it, lad?" Folkvar asked.

Link looked startled that Folkvar noticed that he had a question. "Nothing, sir!" Link reassured him.

"So you just feel like staring at me like I'm ghost?" Folkvar grunted. Link hadn't noticed that was looking at Folkvar strange.

"No, sir! I wasn't..." Link grew more and more flustered trying to come up with an excuse. "I was just..."

"You're wondering what happened with the dragon's soul?" Folkvar said. "It's nothing you need to worry yourself about."

"Yes, sir," Link said and nodded him head. He made sure he lord down at his hands for the rest of the journey.

That night they camped next to a river in an abandoned river. They tied the horses up outside and Folkvar lit a small fire on the tower's ground floor. Link found it hard to sleep. The image of the dragon's head nearly crushing him was imprinted in the back of his head.

The next morning they made their way to Riften. Link wondered if they were close or not. They had been traveling for a long time now. He was very glad that the bandit's hideout where he been held as a slave was very far away, but he didn't want to leave Folkvar. Folkvar had rescued him and taken him in when he could have easily left Link in Rorikstead to fend for himself. He had even bought him cloths and gotten him a horse and gave him a dagger. Even though he had only been traveling with Folkvar for a little under a week, he found it hard to imagine life without him. He wondered if Folkvar felt the same. Probably not. That's why he was going to drop him off at the orphanage.

"Folkvar, sir?" Link finally said around noon. "Is Riften far?"

"We'll reach it in a few hours," Folkvar answered.

"Okay," Link said quietly. He fiddled his fingers for a few minutes before looking up at Folkvar. "Sir? Are you mad at me?"

"What?" Folkvar grunted.

"Are you mad 'cause I didn't obey you and I attacked the dragon even when you told me to not come out of hiding if there was a dragon around? 'Cause if you are I'm really, really sorry and I promise I won't ever do it again!"

"I am upset that you disobeyed me," Folkvar admitted. "What you did was rash and dangerous and dumb."

"Sorry, sir," Link mumbled dejected.

"But if you hadn't done it, I'd probably be dead," Folkvar didn't even so much as glance at Link. But his words made Link feel infinitely better.

Link had actually saved someone! Maybe if Folkvar adopted him at the orphanage and taught him how to fight like a real warrior he'd have a chance of defeating Ganon and maybe even reunite with Zelda and Impa. Link smiled to himself. He was going to ask Folkvar to adopt him when they got to the orphanage. Either Folkvar would say no and he'd never see him again, or he'd say yes and then Link would have a family. Link hoped Folkvar would say yes.

After the hours past, they came up to Riften. They boarded the horses at the stable's and Link said a slightly emotional good bye to Dapple.

"You're a good pony, Dapple," Link patted the pony's nose and turned to enter the city with Folkvar.

The first thing Link noticed was the stench. Riften wasn't nearly as clean as Whiterun. There were also much more beggars. The guards who where on duty where drunk and the ones off duty where drunker. Link realized that if Folkvar said no, this would be his home until he turned sixteen in two years. Folkvar asked for directions to the orphanage from a guard.

"Honorhall Orphanage is just outside Mistveil Keep. Can't miss it." the guard pointed down the street to the keep.

"Thank you," Folkvar nodded to the guard and lead Link to the orphanage.

Link noticed that his Triforce was reacting to something negative. The closer they got to the orphanage the more intense the tingling on his hand got. The cold hand that normally gripped his throat when the bandits were close to giving him a beating came back. He had a very bad feeling about the orphanage.

"Folkvar, sir?" Link looked nervously at Folkvar, who's face showed only fierce determination, like always. Link was certain he was a pale as a ghost. "I-I-I..."

"You'll be fine, lad," Folkvar reassured him. He reached out and knocked on the door. A woman opened it. She looked tired, but she had a kind look in her eyes. Link hoped that she was Grelod the Kind.

"Hello, sir," the woman said. "I'm Constance Mitchell." Link felt the hand close tighter around his throat. "Are you here to drop of the boy?"

"Yes, may we come in?" Folkvar's asked.

"Certainly," Constance opened the door to let Folkvar and Link in. The room looked like it served as a dinning room as well as an office like place. "Grelod, ma'am, we have visitors." Constance said. An old woman stalked out of the room on the left. Link thought he could hear the soft sobbing of a child coming from the room. He felt afraid but he resisted hiding behind Folkvar with all his might. He had to make Folkvar want to adopt him or he'd be stuck here.

"Orphan or potential parent?" She snarled.

"I think orphan," Constance told her. "Am I right?" She looked at Link.

"Yes, ma'am," Link mumbled.

Grelod walked over to Link and looked him up and down as if she was inspecting a rare cut of meat. She even grabbed his arm and checked his muscles. Link wanted to pull away, but he was frozen with fear. This woman could not be human. She felt too evil.

"What's this?" Grelod snapped. She had a firm hold on his left wrist and had a perfect view of the mark of the Triforce. It was glowing so intensely Link could even feel warmth wafting from of it. "There will be no magic while I'm in charge!" She barked.

"But, ma'am, it's a birth mark!" Link yelped fearfully. Her grip tightened and her eyes narrowed menacingly. Link looked to Folkvar for help. Folkvar was grinding his teeth angrily.

"Birthmarks don't glow, whelp," Grelod snarled. "Make it stop."

"I can't control it, ma'am," Link whined. "It does that when there's... Um..." Link was going to say 'when there's something evil nearby' but the closer Grelod got to it, the more intense the glow.

"What, boy," Grelod snapped angrily. "Tell me or there'll be extra chores and less food for a week."

Link started to struggle to get away. "L-let me go!" He cried. He noticed dirty little faces peaking from the doorway where Grelod had come from. Some of them had tear stains on their faces, other's had bruises, and one of the boys had blood tricking down his face from a cut on his head. Constance saw them and tried to discretely shoo them back into the room. In an instant, Folkvar swooped in to Link's rescue and practically pealed Grelod's boney fingers off of Link's wrist. Link could already feel a hand shaped bruise forming his wrist as he rubbed his pulsating hand. The glowing dimmed, but didn't stop entirely.

"Let me make myself clear," Folkvar snarled at Grelod. His size alone made him intimidating, but when he tried, he was scarier than the dragon. "If you harm a single hair on the lad's head extra chores will be the least of your worries." That's when he looked up and noticed the terrified orphans who Constance had rushed to to comfort. "No, wait. How about this." Folkvar dragged the terrified old woman to the door, opened it, and tossed her out. "If you hurt any child again, you'll have me to answer to."

"Honorhall is my orphanage!" Grelod shrieked. "What right do you have to kick me out of my own home!"

"I have every right," Folkvar snarled. "I am the Dragonborn." Folkvar slammed the door shut and turned to Constance. "I've changed my mind." He said, all malice had gone from his figure and he returned to the Folkvar Link knew. "I'm taking the boy."

* * *

Whew. The way I see Folkvar saying "I am the Dragonborn" is intense and awesome and it makes me shiver with fangirly glee every time I read Chapter 1.

Anyway, favorite and follow, or whatever it is you want to do, I don't care, Its your life. If you do want to know, I will be doing my ultimate best to compleat this story and its sequel. Chapter 2 is compleat but waiting revision and Chapter 3 is only about three thousand words from compleat. I am sceptical about this on , so if you have anything positive to say please review so that I know why you liked or didn't like so that I can further improve my writing skills.

Folkvar means hero of the people and it is a Scandinavian name, so I thought it would fit Mr. Dragonborn well. If you want to picture Folkvar in your head, imagin the Dovahkiin from the trailers and official art but about ten years older and with a bigger, wilderness beard.

Link is the exact same Link as OoT but instead abandoning him, Impa actually stopped to horse long enough to grab Link and carry him and the princess to safety. Since there was no one to chuck the Ocarina of Time at, Zelda just kept it. I'm gonna stop now so I that I don't give away any major spoilers.

Thanks in advance for liking what I've spent months working on and if you didn't like it thwhy how on earth did you get far enough to read ten thWorded words? I mean, really, that's like twenty pages!


	2. Chapter 2

I apologize in advance for any layout issues since I'm using my iPad and doesn't seem to play nice with IOS. The chapters my seem different at times in terms of format because of this.

* * *

Folkvar and Link stayed at the Bee and Barb because Folkvar did not enjoy the company of the proprietor of Haelga's Bunkhouse, though it was free and Folkvar was tight on cash. The woman liked him, but Folkvar was not interested in her affections. He worried for a moment about how he'd explain to Link about his uncomfortableness around the 'lusty nordic innkeeper'. Fortunately, Link didn't ask about it since he had no way of knowing that the Bunkhouse was basically free.

The next morning went over much like the other mornings. Folkvar restocked their supplies at the general goods stores and then the two made their way to the stables outside of the city to get their horses. They were soon on the road back to Whiterun.

"Folkvar, sir?" Link asked after a few hours of silence on the road.  
"Listen, lad," Folkvar responded gruffly. "If this is going to work, there going to have to be some changes. First, stop addressing me as 'sir' all the time. I'm not one for formalities."  
"Okay, s-..." Link caught himself before finishing the sentence. "Where are we going?"  
This brought to Folkvar's attention that he had many things to decide now that someone's life depended on him directly. He'd have to be more settled down than before. He might even have to get a regular job. But definitely not as a guard. Most adventurers became guards after getting married since the post was stable enough to settle down and raise a family. Folkvar had no intention of giving up his freedom just because he had to look after Link and make sure the boy was clothed, fed, and had a place to sleep. He considered becoming a part time adventure but a full time woodsman. He could easily support himself and the boy with his survival skills, plus, it was easier to teach Link how to fend for himself if they didn't live in a densely populated area.  
No matter what he did, one thing was certain. He'd have to at least build a cabin somewhere for them to live. He decided that if he had to live somewhere, he'd rather it be in Falkreath. He always loved the forests there more than any other place in Skyrim. There was a lake, Lake Ilinalta, that boasted good fishing so there'd be no shortage of food.  
"We're going to build a little cabin by the shore of the lake in Falkreath," Folkvar answered Link's question about the future thoughtfully. "It's only a three day journey."  
"M'kay," Link looked silently to the road a head. The rest of the journey was spent in quiet. Link was, as usual, still taking in the sheer beauty of Skyrim while Folkvar was, as usual, scanning the wilds to either side of the road for danger. About half way through the second day they ran into a bear taking a nap in the middle of road, but Folkvar took it down with a swift arrow through the eye. Folkvar took the opportunity to teach Link how to drain the blood from an animal and then skin it.  
"Um, Folkvar?" Link looked almost as pale as when Grelod had his wrist in her death grip. "Can't we just leave the bear here and just keep going?"  
"Lad, bear meat is the best meat," Folkvar responded. "And the pelts sell for a good price and they make great coats. If you're going to survive in Skyrim, you'll need to learn how to do this. I'll walk you through it."  
"Can't we start with, I dunno, something smaller? Like a rabbit or a fox?" Link asked. He was starting to turn green in the face.  
Folkvar sighed. "At least watch." Folkvar commanded. Link took a deep breath, swallowed the bile rising up in his throat, and nodded to tell Flkvar he was ready, though he really wasn't. Folkvar unsheathed his big hunting knife and started to drain the blood from the bear.  
Link did his best not to gag at the sharp smell of blood that soon filled the air. After all the blood was drained Folkvar began the skin the bear. He had been doing this for quite a long time and was very good at it. The bear pelt was perfect, leaving a skinless bear corpse in the middle of the road. Link was having a hard time not throwing up. Folkvar then started to cut out the best cuts of the bear and placed them on the bear's pelt to dry so that they'd last longer. After all that, Folkvar tied a rope to the carcass's hind legs and dragged it off the road so that their travelers didn't have to see rotting bear on the side of the road. Link was very glad when it was over and they could continue on their way. Folkvar was confident that he had passed on some knowledge and contributed to the boy growing into a man.

Later that night they camped in Helgen in the same spot as last time. Folkvar relit their old campfire and they tied the horses in the same place. Link found himself staring at the fire again as Folkvar cooked the bear into a stew. Link forlornly stirred his soup with his wooden spoon. He looked up at Folkvar, who was already taking seconds.  
"Folkvar?" Link finally spoke up. "Am I weak?"  
"Why would you be weak, lad?" Folkvar looked concerned with this question.  
"Am I weak because I couldn't drain and skin the bear?"  
"Draining and skinning a bear does not define strength, Link," Folkvar snapped. Link was sure that conversation was over. But he was still convinced Folkvar thought he was weak.

They reached Falkreath at around noon the next day. Falkreath was smaller than Riften and Whiterun. It had no walls, just lookout towers where the main road went through the city. Since there was no stable in Falkreath, Folkvar tied the horses outside the inn, Dead Man's Drink, an ironic name since Falkreath was also home to the largest cemetery in Skyrim and the most honorable place for heroes and adventures to be buried. Folkvar went in and rented two rooms from Valga Vinicina, the inn keeper. There was a man there who recognized Folkvar. He approached them with a light smile.  
"Folkvar," the man said. "Remember me? Valdr? You helped me clear out the sprigans in Moss Mother Cavern and avenge the deaths of my friends. I gave you my dagger as thanks."  
"I remember," Folkvar grunted. He didn't like being recognized as a celebrity.  
Valdr looked down at Link and eyed his dagger. "I see it's changed hands again." He playfully attempted to ruffle Link's hair but the boy panicked when the man's hand got close to his head and he hid behind Folkvar. Valdr seemed surprised at Link's reaction but he didn't make a comment about it. He turned back to Folkvar. "Let me buy you a drink, friend."  
"I don't have time," Folkvar said gruffly. He lead Link out of Dead Man's Drink and over to the Jarl's Longhouse across the road. He approached a woman who had pointed ears, yellow-ish skin, short blond hair, and red eyes. Link sort of understood how the mean inn keeper in Rorikstead could mistakenly classify him as an elf like her, though his ears where much longer.  
"Steward Nenya, right?" Folkvar asked.  
"Yes, and you are?" She looked weary of him, but she eyed Link with curiosity.  
"I'm Folkvar, and this is Link," He introduced themselves to the woman.  
"That's a strange name for a mer," Nenya said.  
"He's not a mer," Folkvar corrected. "I'd like to buy some land near the lake."  
"Most people would just build," Nenya said. She motioned for them to come with her. "Of course, that's illegal and the buildings can be demolished. I'll just need you to sign some papers and I hope you have the money. The permit to build costs 5,000 septims."  
"I've got the money," Folkvar said.

After Folkvar signed all the papers the two went back to Dead Man's Drink. Valdr left them alone, though he was still there. Folkvar ordered some apple and cabbage stew and some mead for himself and some more goat's milk for Link. Link felt even worse about his reaction to Valdr reaching to him. He knew that the man probably was just going to ruffle his hair and not grab him, but his instincts had been conditioned to be fearful of anyone who got close to him. He was even a little scared that Folkvar might hurt him if he did anything wrong, though he believed deep down that Folkvar would never hurt him. Or let anyone else hurt him, for that matter.  
Folkvar considered Link's behavior around Valdr. It seemed that Link would need some time to recover from his previously abusive environment. Folkvar made a note to never make any unnecessary fast movements towards Link, or raise his voice, or even get too angry. He'd have to be patient with the boy.

After everything was settled and paid for and the house was officially going to be built by laborers using lumber from Half-Moon Mill and stone from a quarry nearby, Folkvar took Link over to their horses.  
"Lad, we're going to Whiterun to get some supplies," Folkvar grunted. He was already tightening Alfsigr's tack. Link followed suit. He wanted to ask what they were getting that they couldn't get here, but he didn't want to make Folkvar even more angry with him. He was certain that Folkvar was not happy with him for cowering like he had. "We'll be back in four days time. The cabin will be finished by them."  
"That's fast," Link commented.  
"It's not a castle they're building, lad," Folkvar responded gruffly.

_In order to own Lakeview Manor, the property Folkvar purchased, you need to be Thane of Falkreath and have the DLC, Hearthfire, installed. This is in the game, not the story. Folkvar is not a thane._

The ride from Falkreath to Whiterun was quiet. When they got to Whiterun Folkvar took Link directly up the path to the shop across from the smithy, the Iron Warmaiden. The shop was called the Drunken Huntsman. There where all sorts of bows and arrows and quivers on the shelves. Folkvar went straight to the counter. The shop's owner, Anoraith, seemed to reconize Folkvar.  
When he saw Link he said, "Ah, Kinsman, how my heart soars to look upon a brother mer, please how can I serve your hunting needs?"  
"I'm not mer, sir," Link mumbled. "I'm from overseas."  
"Ah," Anoraith looked slightly embarrassed, but he recovered quickly. "Regardless, how can I help you?"  
"I'm looking for a bow that fits the lad," Folkvar said. "And a quiver."  
"I probably have a bow that fits him," Anoraith said. He searched the shelf behind him and took down a recurve bow. He strung it and passed it over the counter. "Pull the string back until your thumb is touching the tip of your mouth, but don't let go. Dry firing a bow can damage the bow."  
"M'kay," Link said. He took the bow in his right hand and pulled back the string with his left. "Like this, sir?"  
"You're a natural," Anoraith smiled. "Are you sure you're not a bosmer?" He said jokingly. He turned to Folkvar, who had picked out a quiver and a set of 24 steel tipped arrows. "That'll be 100 septims."

After Folkvar paid the two went up to the Skyforge. Link could hardly believe it. Folkvar was actually agreeing to let him have weapons. It didn't really sink in until Folkvar took the turn for up the steps to the Skyforge. Eorlund was working away at forging weapons and armor for the Companions. Even though he was engrossed in his work, he still noticed Link and Folkvar approach.  
"Changed your mind, old friend?" He placed the metal he was shaping into a bucket of cold water and turned to face Folkvar with a warm smile.  
"Seems that no matter what I do, I'm stuck with him," Folkvar said. "He was brave enough to take on a dragon with a knife. I'd rather he didn't fight anything, but if he's got the heart of a warrior there's nothing I can do about it. I'd rather he fight with proper weapons."  
Link let the kind words sink in. Folkvar thought he was brave! And he said he has the heart of a warrior. Link had never felt warmer inside. Maybe Folkvar wasn't mad at him after all.  
"Come here, Link," Eorlund motioned for Link to come closer. "Let me see how tall you are so I can make proper sized weapons." Link walked over and Eorlund gave him a thorough look over. It didn't feel anything like Grelod's stare down.  
"What weapon's do you prefer, Link?" Eorlund asked.  
"A sword and a shield, sir," Link answered.  
"A blade! It shall be as sharp as my wife's tongue," Eorlund laughed. "Don't tell Fralia I said that." He went straight to the forge to make the sword and shield. "I'll have them ready by tomorrow morning."  
"Thank you, sir!" Link smiled and bowed respectively.  
"Is there anything I can do to..." Folkvar began automatically.  
"Folkvar, my dear friend," Eorlund stopped Folkvar. "You saved my son's life. The least I can do is make the weapon that saves the life of yours."  
"He's not my son," Folkvar said back. The words were harsher than he intended.  
"Then who is he?" Eorlund said back. He turned to work at the forge and became engrossed in making Link's sword and shield. Folkvar irritably stormed down to the Bannered Mare with Link in tow. He didn't seem to be in a talking mood. Link followed him diligently all the way down to the inn; where Folkvar tried to rent two rooms. It seemed that the two tenants who had rented the rooms the last time were there were still occupying the rooms. Folkvar was not happy about this.

The next morning Link woke to see Folkvar sleeping peacefully in the chair in their room. He had his hunting knife in his hand and his two handed sword sat next to the chair. Link tried to sneak down to the inn's main room, but the floor bored he stepped on just so happened to be one of the ones that creaked. Folkvar snapped awake instantly and drew his knife. When he saw it was just Link he almost growled. Link felt all the color drain from his face. Folkvar looked just like a bandit who was not happy to be woken from him beauty sleep. Link instinctively cowered away and cover his head protectively with his arms. Folkvar just sheathed his knife and grunted for Link to follow him down the stairs. Link obliged without a word.

Folkvar remained deep in thought throughout the entire trip up to the Skyforge. He thought about braving into a section of his mind that remained buried deep in the back of his mind. The place where he locked away his most intense emotions. He looked down at the boy who was as close to skipping as an emotionally scarred child could be.  
Link was excited to finally have the chance to hold a sword that fit him. He hadn't really wielded a proper weapon since his escapades helping Princess Zelda four years ago. He tried to remember the feeling of having an extended arm, but aside from remembering the feeling of the dagger getting ripped from his hands by a raging dragon, he could not.  
"Ah," Eorlund stood from the grinding stone where he was sitting to great the man and the boy. "I was worried you wouldn't be returning. I'm glad I can put my unease to rest now that you're here. Come here, Link." Eorlund motioned for Link to go over to the grind stone. The elderly blacksmith held a sword in one hand. In his hand's it looked like a regular sword, but to Link, it was the hand-and-a-half sword he had been waiting all night to hold.  
"This is mine?" Link pointed to the expertly crafted sword. It wasn't to fancy, but it was definitely far from being cheap. Link held it in both hands, feeling the grip. It was a perfect fit in his hands. He then held it in one hand to feel the balance. He hadn't felt anything so balanced before. "Thank you." He bowed once more to Eorlund, who didn't have to make him such a fine weapon, but had anyway.  
"Your shield is this way," Eorlund lead Link over to a table Link assumed was used for making final adjustments to armor. Eorlund lifted a shield off the table and handed it to Link. Link held it firmly in his right hand. It was shaped like the hylian shield he had used to reach Death Mountain but it was much plainer, only had the Triforce marking on it, and was slightly more elongated. "I noticed that interesting birthmark. I hope you don't mind me using it."  
"I don't mind, sir," Link said. "It's a relic of my homeland. It symbolizes the Triforce, a golden relic that is said to have been left by the gods after they departed from this world. The top triangle represent's Power, the left is Courage, and the right is Wisdom. This means a lot to me."  
"I'm glad," Eorlund smiled. "And everything is a perfect fit. My wife always says I've got a perfect eye."  
Link turned to Folkvar and bowed again. "Thank you for agreeing to let me have these, Folkvar. I will do my best make you proud."  
"Why would you need to make me proud, lad?" Folkvar snapped. Link felt tears well up in his eyes. He wiped away his tears and silently took the sword's sheath. He nodded once more to Eorlund and walked down the path to Jorvaskr.  
"Folkvar, do not alienate the boy," Eorlund warned. "You think you are avoiding pain by not letting yourself get attached to him but let me ask you one thing. Did you take in the boy out of pity or out of love?"  
"I took him in because he needs me," Folkvar snapped.  
"And how will helping him work of he hates you?"  
"He doesn't..."  
"At this rate, it will only be a matter of time before he leaves you. And you need him just as much as he needs you, whether you know it or not."  
Folkvar gave him a mean glare before turning to follow Link. He found the boy sitting against the stones of the Underforge with his face buried in his knees. He was shaking slightly. Folkvar called to him and went down the path on his way to the stables. Link followed dejectedly. Folkvar noticed that Link had his sword buckled on his back, the same way Folkvar preferred to carry his. The shield was fastened to the sheath so it didn't get in the way. Link was walking farther behind Folkvar than he had when they went up to the Skyforge.

_The Underforge is a secret room under the Skyforge where the Companions turn their newest inner circle members into werewolves._

The next night was spent in Riverwood's inn. Link stared at the ceiling of his room for what felt like hours until he finally made up his mind. Folkvar obviously only took him in out of pity and didn't really want him. He didn't want to burden Folkvar any further than he already had. He was done with pretending that Folkvar might someday care about him. He had wanted the bandits to accept him as well, but that had got him nowhere.  
He got out of the bed and pulled on his over cloths and boots. He checked to make sure he had enough rations to get wherever the open road could take him, and bucked his sword and shield to his back and slung his bow over his shoulder. He attached his quiver to his side and slowly opened the door to his room. He stopped for a second before worrying slightly that Folkvar would worry about where he had gone. So he snuck over to the counter of the inn and took a quill, some ink, and some paper. On the paper he wrote:

Dear Folkvar,

I know I'm a bother to you and you'd rather be without me. I'm going off on my own. I have my sword and my bow so I'm not afraid of being attacked or anything. Thank you for everything.

Sincerely,  
Link

He placed the letter on the pillow of his bed and, quiet as a church mouse, left the inn. He patted Dapple on the nose and untied the little pony. He mounted and took off down the road. He decided to go back towards Whiterun and rode over the bridge. When he reached the branch in the road on the other side; he decided to go up the mountain as opposed to along the river. It took all of his strength to not look behind him and not think of Folkvar.

When Folkvar woke up that morning he felt hung over. Not surprising since he had been drinking strong mead in his room after Link went to bed. Eorlund's words had brought back painful memories. Memories that he preferred to keep buried. He decided to re-bury them with the strongest mead the inn had.  
He hobbled out of his room drearily and plunked down on the nearest sitting place. The inn keeper handed him a cup of hot black coffee. Folkvar downed it in one gulp, much like he had the mead the night before.  
"Your boy left last night," the inn keeper said passingly. "At least, his pony's gone. We haven't been in his room yet."  
As soon as the words sunk in Folkvar made like lighting to Link's room. He wasn't there, and neither was his bag. Folkvar found Link's letter on the pillow. His felt his stomach drop and his heart rise. He starred at the letter for a few moments before charging out of the room and down to Alfsigr. Never before had he wished so hard that horses could speak. He asked around of anyone had seen which way the boy had gone but he had apparently left during the ungodly hours when no one was out. Not even the local drunkard was awake. So, Folkvar used his expert hunting skills to track the little bay pony and its young rider.  
Folkvar followed the trail he had picked up to the fork in the road on the other side of the bridge. He knew he'd be going slower than Link since he was tracking and Link was just riding. The boy had gone back towards Whiterun, but hadn't taken the main rode. He had gone up towards Bleak Falls Barrows. Folkvar cursed the gods. The boy was headed towards one of the most dangerous places he could possibly go. Half way up to the ancient temple was a watchtower that was normally occupied by bandits with bows.

Link had been riding for a few hours by the time the sun finally came up. He was glad since he had been riding slowly because it was dark and he didn't want Dapple to hurt himself. When the sun rose behind him and he had a beautiful view of Riverwood from the top of the mountain. Ahead was a temple of sorts that Link planed on going around. Maybe he'd eventually find work and buy a map. Even though he knew Folkvar didn't want him, Link at least knew now what he wanted to do. He wanted to be like Folkvar and help people for a living.  
He was deep in thought when Dapple reared. Link felt himself lurch and within seconds he found himself on the ground and Dapple a few yards away. Looking up he realized he had fallen off the cliff to the side of the road. He started to get up but felt a sharp pain in his right ankle and he staggered back down to the ground. The best he could manage was a sitting position. He was about to try to call for help when he heard voices. They didn't sound friendly.  
"Did I hit the kid?" A gruff voice shouted.  
"I think you got him," a woman's voice answered. "Shame he fell off the side of the mountain. He looked like he had some valuables."  
"Hey, we got the little horse thing," a second man said.  
"I think it's called a pony," the first man said back. Link shifted slightly, sending a shock of pain up his leg. He covered his mouth to stop himself from yelping. He felt tears of pain well up in his eyes. Link wished silently to himself that this was not the end and that he would live to see another day but for the life of him he could see no way out of this other than dying.

Folkvar raced up the mountain path to Bleak Falls Barrow with all the speed Alfsigr could muster. She seemed to be feeling his urgency. When Folkvar discovered what path the boy had taken a black pit of dread had formed in his stomach and every second that pass the pit threatened to rise up his throat. The image of Link lying, cold and very much dead, in a pool of his own blood etched itself into Folkvar's mind. The only thing keeping him form beating Alfsigr with his heels to urge her to go faster was that if Link met his end this morning or the night before, she would be all he had left again. He couldn't stand that idea of not having the boy shadow him. He had unintentionally gotten attached to the little blond boy.  
Alfsigr got him to the small watchtower as the sun was still rising. It had barely peaked its first rays of morning over the mountains that bordered Falkreach Hold and Whiterun Hold when Folkvar saw a group of three bandits going through Link's saddle bag, still attached to Dapple. Assuming the worst, Folkvar shrugged his bow off his shoulder and shoot the female bandit holding the nervous little pony in the back. In quick succession he shot the two men. He killed one instantly but shot the other in the shoulder.  
He dismounted and drew his sword. He rushed the bandit with all the rage of a pissed off dragon. He grabbed the man by his wounded arm and shoved him against the cliff on the side of the road. He pressed his two handed broad sword to the bandit's throat and snarled three words.  
"Where is Link."  
"Y-you mean the brat riding the pony?" The bandit whimpered. He was crying and smell of shit. His eyes where clenched shut. "I shot him and he fell of the mountain. Please don't kill me! I didn't know..."  
Folkvar decapitated the bandit. He felt consumed with uncontrollable rage. He wished a dragon would show up so he could fight something. He wanted to die. He had failed again, and it was all his fault. He screamed and kicked one of the bandits' helmets off the cliff. In his rage and grief, he screamed Link's name to the heavens. Not that the gods could hear him. After he was done screaming, silence fell. It was in the silence of his grief that he heard a faint voice.  
"Folkvar?" It was Link. Folkvar rushed toward's the boy's voice.  
"Lad?" Folkvar boomed. "Where are you?"  
"I fell on a ledge!" Link shouted back. Folkvar rushed over to the side of the road to see the boy pressing his back against a cliff and holding his left leg and shaking softly.  
"Are you hurt?" Folkvar asked.  
"I think I broke my ankle. Dapple spooked and I thought I was going to die and, and..." Link started sobbing silently. He no longer cared if Folkvar thought he was weak.  
"Lad, can you reach my hand?" Folkvar reached his hand down for Link to grab. Link looked up to see Folkvar's hand a few feet above his head. He reached his hand up to Folkvar and stretched as much as he could but it hurt to move.  
"Folkvar, I can't reach," Link sobbed. "Just leave me here."  
"I'm not leaving you here and you can reach," Folkvar snapped angrily. "You're strong. You've proven that already."  
Link tried harder to reach but his leg hurt so much. "It hurts, Folkvar. I can't."  
"You can, lad," Folkvar shouted. "Please, just try harder. Try to stand." Link felt a drop of water fall on his outstretched hand. Folkvar was crying. "I'm not losing you, too." Folkvar stated. "You will reach my hand and I'll pull you up."  
"I'll try," Link hiccuped. He inhaled deeply and bit his lip. He quickly, and painfully, pulled himself up and he could reach Folkvar's hand easily. Folkvar grabbed the boy's wrist and hauled him up effortlessly. Link held back a scream of pain as his ankle was jolted on the way up. When he was safely on the side of the road he collapsed into Folkvar's chest and grabbed the front of Folkvar's shirt in comfort.  
"That's enough of that, lad," Folkvar gently pushed the crying teen away from him and quickly checked him over for wounds. "Let's get that ankle checked."  
Folkvar collected a few sticks and pulled out some other supplies from his first aid kit and put a makeshift splint on Link's ankle. Link managed to only grit his teeth when Folkvar tightened the scrap cloth into knots. Folkvar made Link ride in front of him on Alfsigr. He didn't trust Dapple at the moment. They rode in silence, like usual. The only noise was Link's soft sniffling and his occasional whimpers when he ankle was jolted to harshly.  
"Folkvar?" Link finally asked as Riverwood started to come into view.  
"Yes, I am angry with you," Folkvar knew what the boy was going to say even before he said it. "But I don't blame you. I was being selfish. I made you think I didn't want you. Link, I'm stuck with you now and I intend to make sure it stays that way."  
Link remained silent for a few moments before murmuring his thanks. Folkvar took one hand off the reins and ruffled Link's hair. Link didn't flinch away.

_There is a tower on the way to Bleak Falls Barrow in Whiterun Province that is not marked on the map and it is inhabited by bandits._

Link's misadventure had cost them one day in their journey back home, but neither Folkvar nor Link considered it a loss. Folkvar had looked over the plans for their house so he wasn't as surprised to see it as Link. Link was riding Dapple again since Folkvar decided that the pony had enough time to recover from getting nearly shot so Link almost didn't notice that Folkvar was turning Alfsigr down a freshly made road. Luckily, Dapple noticed and followed the horse down the freshly made path.  
When the little cabin came into view, Link was in awe. The house looked like many of the houses in Falkreath: wooden walls, a thatched roof, and a small porch at the entry with a two chairs. Connected to the house on the side that faced away from the beautiful lake to the north was an animal pen with five chickens and a pair of goats. There was a tanning rack on the ground where the fence of the animal pen connected the the house. Next to it were a few rain barrels full of fresh water. There was a stable and a paddock for Alfsigr and Dapple as well as an attack dummy set up between the house and the lake. But the best part about the little cabin next to the lake in Falkreath was that Link could call it home.  
Folkvar wordlessly dismounted and Link followed suit. Link had a crutch to lean on while his ankle healed and the inn keeper in Riverwood was able to patch him up better than Folkvar had so he wasn't too wobbly. They both took the tack off their horses and put them in the stable. Link mimicked everything Folkvar did except he snuck an apple out from his pack and fed it to Dapple. He hadn't noticed Folkvar discreetly feeding Alfsigr a carrot. Link followed Folkvar as he went up to the house. The nord stopped before the front door. He looked down at Link, who was looking up at him expectingly.  
"Let's open the door together," Folkvar said. Link nodded and put his hand on the door handle. Folkvar put his much larger hand over Link's and together they opened the door and entered the house.  
It wasn't a mansion or anything, but it was comfortable. There where two chairs in front of the fireplace in the main room and a cooking pot over the fire. Next to the fireplace on the right was a table and two chairs for eating a meal. Across the wall from that there was a pantry to keep plates and food. There was a trap door that lead to a cellar. On the other side of the main room was a book nook but the book shelves were empty. There was a lantern on a table next to another chair. There were also two doors that lead to two bedrooms. Link hobbled over to the fireplace chair closest to the bedrooms and sat down. He sighed contently and looked over at Folkvar who was still staring around the room. Link had a big grin on his face.  
"I've never had a home before!" Link exclaimed. "It feels nice."  
"What about before the coup?" Folkvar closed the door and sat down next to Link. "When you lived with your parents?"  
"I never knew my parents. I was an orphan before the coup, too," Link stared at the empty fire place. He imaged what it would feel like when he and Folkvar lit a fire. It didn't lighten his mood much. "Before the coup I lived in a forest and was protected, along with some other kids, by the forest's guardian spirit. Ganondorf killed the guardian spirit, the Great Deku Tree, with his dark magic I tired to save him but I want strong enough. The Great Deku Tree told me with his dying breath that I had to save Hyrule from Ganondorf, but I failed. There was a coup and the king was murdered. Princess Zelda and I fled with her nurse maid, Impa. We were attacked by pirates and I ended up in the bandit hide out."  
"So you never knew your family?" Folkvar sounded a little shocked.  
Link shook his head. He pulled his unharmed leg up to his chest and buried his head in it. Folkvar pushed himself out from his seat and went to the door.  
"I'm going to collect fire wood so we can make dinner," Folkvar announced. "Don't leave the house." He was still a little weary about Link running away again. He had always assumed that when Link had said 'we' when talking about fleeing his home land he meant him and his family. Folkvar had a feeling that Link considered him his family now. He hoped Link didn't have his expectations too high.  
Link used the opportunity to explore the house a little more. He didn't want to go down to the cellar with a broken ankle, so instead he hobbled over to inspect the bedrooms. The one on the left was exactly the same as the one of the right, but mirrored. Each bedroom had a single wooden bed covered in an animal skin blanket, a wardrobe, a dresser, and a bedside table with a lamp. If there was no wall separating the beds then they would be next to each other.

When Folkvar turned he found Link slumping lower in his chair. The bedroom doors were open as well. Folkvar placed the fire wood next to the fire place and took a few logs to start a fire. He had carried in a bucket of water to boil so he could make stew. Folkvar made vegetable stew with the help of Link and when the two finished they found themselves sitting back down in their chairs in front of the now burning fireplace.  
"Folkvar?" Link asked after few moments of silence.  
"Yes, lad?" Folkvar was leaning back in his chair.  
"What about your family?"  
"I don't want to talk about it." Folkvar grunted.  
"But I told you about mine." Link said dejectedly.  
"They died." Folkvar said gruffly.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Link mumbled. "Folkvar?" Link had one more question.  
"What?"  
"What does Dragonborn mean?"  
Folkvar didn't want to answer Link's question. He didn't think Link would understand what it meant. The truth was, he didn't fully understand it himself. Folkvar looked over at Link, who was staring wistfully into the fire in their fireplace. Folkvar knew that if the boy was to be safe he'd need to at least understand what Dragonborn meant.  
"Dragonborn means I have the blood of a mortal but the soul of a dragon."  
"What were those lights?"  
"The dragon's soul. When a dragon dies near me, I absorb its power and can channel that power into shouts."  
"What's a shout?"  
"It's the voice."  
"Like the Graybeards? On the big mountain?"  
"Yes, lad, like the monks on High Hrothgar. But unlike the Greybeards, who spend their entire lives learning the language and meditating on the words in order to us their magic, I don't have to meditate. I just understand them."  
"So when you said that the voice had to be used wisely, you meant that you have to use it wisely?"  
"Aye, lad. But I'm not the only non-Greybeard who has mastered shouts. A man, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, killed the High King of Skyrim with a shout not long ago. He's started a revolution against the empire. Says the empire is oppressive and that Skyrim should only be for the Nords, the natives."  
"Is he right?" Link asked. He didn't think Folkvar agreed with Ulfric since he had taken him in and even given him a home.  
"I don't want to take any side in his war. Skyrim has been fine as a part of the Empire for decades. Ulfric is just a man who's greedy for power. He saw a cause he could 'fight' for so he took it. He just wants to be High King without having to wait for votes from the other jarls."  
"You're not going to stop him?" Link wondered. If Ulfric was hungry for power and racist then what made him any better than Ganondorf?  
"That's enough questions for tonight, lad, time for bed," Folkvar was done with this conversation. He didn't enjoy politics.  
"Okay," Link didn't expect he could get anymore out of Folkvar. "Can I have the room on the left?" Link asked.  
"Sure." Folkvar smiled faintly. It wasn't a noticeable smile. But the feel of the smile graced his face for a single moment.

_There is a Legend of Zelda reference in the Companions quest in Skyrim. When Farkas is questioned about the Companions being werewolves he will respond with "It's a secret to everyone", a popular line from the earlier games of the Zelda franchise._

A few weeks past and Link's ankle had fully healed. Link told Folkvar it was because Hylians heal faster than the other races of Hyrule, and apparently Tamriel. In the time it had taken for Link's ankle to heal, Folkvar and Link had really broken in the little cottage by the lake. Link had taken to calling their modest little home Lakeview Manor, even though it couldn't really be called anything better than a cozy cottage over looking a beautiful lake in a gorgeous location. Folkvar was a little put off when he realized that the builders of the house had neglected to build an outhouse. He may be the Dragonborn, but he still liked a nice place to take a dump.

Link was just coming up from the lakeside where he had been fishing to find Folkvar sharpening his sword with a whetting rock. There were two practice swords leaning against the deck along with his shield. There was one extra long imitation of a two handed broad sword ad another of a hand-and-half sword. They were obviously wooden replicas of their swords.  
"Catch anything?" Folkvar asked passively.  
"I think the lake is filled with super fish. I couldn't reel anything in," Link responded. "Why the practice swords?"  
"If you live under my roof, you'll know how to defend yourself," Folkvar responded. "No more getting captured or kidnapped by pirates or bandits or flung off cliffs. I'm going to teach you how to effectively defend yourself."  
"Oh, okay," Link mumbled sheepishly. He had hoped that Folkvar hadn't noticed that he wasn't being very hero-like but it seems that he had. "Do we have to start now?"  
"Now's as good a time as any," Folkvar responded.  
"I'll just put this rod away," Link said. He went over to the little tool shed Folkvar had built when he added an outhouse to the property.  
When Link came back, Folkvar tossed him the practice sword and shield. Before Link could get the shield properly attached, Folkvar charged. With a yelp of surprise, Link held up his shield and ducked behind it. Folkvar's hefty practice sword bounced harmlessly off the shield, but Folkvar didn't let up. He dodged nimbly to Link's left and swung again. Link knew Folkvar was a good fighter, but he didn't expect such fast movements from someone so big who also wielded such a large weapon. Even though Folkvar had caught Link off guard again the young hylian still managed to deftly block with the practice sword.  
Link spun away, trying to get away from Folkvar, but the man was persistent with his barrage of attacks. Link found himself on one knee blocking an overhead attack from Folkvar with his sword and shield. Event though the practice sword was light, Folkvar was putting pressure against Link's block by leaning on it. With a small grunt, Link managed to roll out from under the overhead attack and get behind Folkvar. He attempted a backhanded slash attack at Folkvar's back, but Folkvar anticipated it and blocked. Folkvar shifted the block so they were facing each other again and swung sideways at Link's sword arm and landed a blow at the base of Link's sword, flinging it out of the boy's hand and sending a jolt up Link's arm. Link was forced to block a barrage of attacks from the stronger man.  
Eventually, Link felt his battered shield arm weaken and he was on his knees, backed up against the side of the house. Folkvar used his foot to pin Link's shield to the wall and pressed the practice sword against Link's neck. Link was panting with exhaustion but Folkvar has barely broken a sweat.  
"That was good, but not good enough," Folkvar stated. Even though Link lost, the little amount of praise make him feel infinitely better.  
"I can do better next time," Link assured Folkvar.  
"I'm sure you can, lad," Folkvar helped Link back up to his feet. "Want to have a go at me or the practice dummy?"  
"Can you go easy on me this time?" Link asked sheepishly. "So I can last longer."

Link and Folkvar sparred until the sun started to set. Link's body was sore in places he had never been sore before but he felt like a new and improved swordsman. He hadn't beaten Folkvar once, but that didn't bother him. After all, he only had a little experience at this kind of stuff while Folkvar had been sword fighting and saving people for a while.  
That night, as Link and Folkvar ate their dinner, there was a loud booming noise. It rumbled through their house and shook their plates and cups. Some of the books that Folkvar had bought in town fell of their shelves as well as a few carvings Link had made in his spare time. Link would have thought it was an earthquake but for the accompanying rumble in the air.  
"Folkvar?" Link asked nervously. Surely Folkvar knows what that was. He knows everything, right? Link worried to himself.  
"I don't know what that was," Folkvar was pale as a sheet. He had felt as if that rumbling was meant for him. He had a hunch it was the Voice that made that noise but he didn't want to course Link to worry.  
"But..." Link started to panic.  
"Don't worry about it Link," Folkvar ordered. "What ever it was, it's over now."

That night, Folkvar had a nightmare.  
_Folkvar woke to find himself in a strange place. It was so dark. The darkness was so consuming Folkvar couldn't feel his own hands moving in front of him. And it was cold. Colder than the coldest nights of Skyrim. Folkvar tried to find some way of finding out where he was._  
_Dragonborn, three voices echoed. They were back._  
_"What more do you want from me!" He shouted angrily at the women. "I found your child and taken him in. What more do you want!"_  
Protect him_, their voices echoed off the darkness. _Keep him safe from the dangers of your world. He will be called when it is his time.  
_"What do you want from him?" Folkvar asked. He grew angrier. It was bad enough that they haunted his nights, but they should do well to leave his boy alone._

"Folkvar!" Link shouted.  
Folkvar woke up in his bed, the darkness was gone. He opened his eyes to see Link standing in the doorway of his room. The boy looked more worried than when the rumbling had disturbed their dinner the night before.  
"What is it, lad?" Folkvar moaned. He got out of bed and went to the door.  
"There's a man who wants to talk to you. He says he rode all night to find you when he heard the loud earthquake thing. But he called it 'the Call'."  
Without a word Folkvar pulled his cloak on over his bare upper body and went to the door where he found Farengar Secret-Fire. He was still angry from his nightmare.  
"Link, go fetch some fire wood," Folkvar said to the boy.  
"But the pile's full," Link said from behind Folkvar.  
"Go fetch some fire wood," Folkvar repeated.  
"Okay," Link pouted. He had a feeling that what ever Folkvar wanted to say to the mysterious man on their porch was important but he didn't want to say it front of Link. But Link wanted in on the secret. Link got dressed in warmer cloths and strapped his sword to his back and went outside as the mysterious man entered his home to talk about something very important with Folkvar about the thing that kept him from getting a good nights sleep last night.  
The two old friends sat down in the chairs at the table. Folkvar crossed his arms defensively over his chest and looked menacingly down at the brown haired nord wizard. Farengar could barley contain his excitement.  
"Farengar," Folkvar grunted. He acknowledged that the wizard was his friend, but he didn't enjoy him in his house. "What is the meaning of this?"  
"They called you," Farnegar responded eagerly. "The Greybeards need to talk to you. No one's been summoned to High Hrothgar since the hero-god Tiber Septim. They named the currency after him! And when he died he became Talos, King of the Devins!"  
"I know who Talos is," Folkvar mumbled. "Everyone knows who Talos is."  
"Yes, but the Greybeards called you, Folkvar! That's the only explanation for the shout!"  
"I have no intention of leaving my home for a long while."  
"Folkvar!" Farengar exclaimed excitedly. "Will you tell me what the inside of their monastery looks like when you get back?" He wasn't listening to Folkvar in the slightest.  
"Farengar! Get out of my house! I have no intention on climbing that mountain to speak with a bunch of crazy old monks!" Folkvar shouted.  
Farengar looked taken aback, but he had known Folkvar since they where children and he had seen Folkvar get angry many times. "Folkvar, something is happening with these dragons. They are rising from their graves. Some even say Alduin the World Eater is behind it all. Helgen was laid ruin by a dragon. You know, you were there. You might be able to stop this, but only the Greybeards can tell you how to do that. I had a feeling you wouldn't answer their call so I rode at a hard gallop all the way here to find you. Folkvar, the world might be ending and you're the Dragonborn, the one one who can stop it."  
"And say if I do decide take the Pilgrimage up the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar. And not saying I will, but who will take care of the lad? He's strong but he has no survival skills and our cottage is Ina place where he'll need to be able to hunt to service here without me. I can't leave him here."  
"You could take him with you," Farengar urged.  
"No," Folkvar snapped. "That's too dangerous."  
"I can handle it!" Link suddenly burst through the door. He didn't have any fire wood.  
"LINK!" Folkvar stood up so fast he sent his chair flying. Farengar stood up as well, but not nearly as fast. "I told you to go fetch some..."  
"But, Folkvar! We don't need anymore fire wood. We have enough for the whole week!" Link complained.  
"How long were you at that door?" Folkvar snapped.  
"I heard the whole thing," Link mumbled. "Please don't worry about me, Folkvar!" Link pleaded. "I don't want to get the way of you having to save the world!"  
"The world isn't in any danger, lad," Folkvar almost shouted. "And there's nothing that someone like me can do about it anyway."  
"But, Folkvar! You're the best sword fighter ever and you can do anything!" Link protested. "Right?"  
"Where in Oblivion would you get an idea like that!" Folkvar practically shouted.  
"Because you saved me," Link said meekly. He looked down at his feet sheepishly.  
"Folkvar," Farengar spoke up. "Regardless of whether or not you think you can do this has no meaning. You have to any way. And if it makes you feel better, I think you can do it too."  
Folkvar looked from his old friend and back to Link. Both of these people believed in him when he himself did not.  
"High Hrothgar is a long way from here considering that the base of the Seven Thousands Steps is in Ivarstead which is on the other side of the mountain," Folkvar said after a few moments of tense silence.  
"So we're going?" Link looked up.  
"Fine, but you're not coming," Folkvar gave Farengar a stern look. "Dragon's are dangerous and you're more use to Whiterun alive."  
"You sound just like the Jarl," Farengar pouted.

After Farnegar said goodbye to Link and Folkvar, the two soon-to-be-heroes got ready for the trek to Ivarstead. Folkvar packed as much food as he could carry in his pack. Link packed his ocarina even though Folkvar had warned him about it attracting dangerous animals. Link didn't plan on playing it, he just liked the feel of it in his hands. It reminded him of Zelda and his best friend, Saria, at the same time.  
When the their horses were fully equipped and their packs full of necessities, Link and Folkvar set off for Falkreath. Folkvar needed to higher a hunter to take care of the animals while they were gone. Fortunately, Falkreath wasn't too far out of the way so the detour wouldn't take them more than a few hours out of their way.  
After only a few hours on their way to Falkreath, Link started to feel home sick. He had only ever felt the feeling twice before. First, when leaving Kokiri Forest for the first, and probably last time, and second, when Impa had hurried Zelda and him onto the boat to Skyrim. But this time the thought that they would be returning back to their little 'Lakeveiw Manor' comforted the Hylain boy greatly.

* * *

Chapter Two! Woo! (That rhyme may or may not have been intentional.) chapter 3 is still in the works, but it is almost done. I will be trying to upload every Monday, Teusday, or Wednesday so if chapter 3 isn't uploaded by then you can go over to my tumblr, same URL as my username, and scold me for being a lazy butt (but do so kindly, I don't take well to constructive critsim)

The more you review, favorite, and follow this story and or my profile, the more motivated I get to finish things, so if you want to find out everything that happens to Link and Folkvar then show your appreciation. It is appreciated.

I suppose I should have a disclaimer and the disclaimer should be at the top... Oh well. Better late than never.

I do not own Skyrim or Legend of Zelda but I can dream.

Don't forget to be awesome, your beautiful, until next week. (Probably)


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own the rights to Elder Scrolls: Skyrim or Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of time, but I do own the games so I guess that counts for something.

* * *

_In the story, I have placed Hyrule in the Eltheric Ocean, northwest of High Rock. The ship that Link and crew were on was headed for Daggerfall in High Rock when they where attacked by a gang pirates whose captain was cousins with the bandit chief who bought Link. Hylians do not normally have dealings with outsiders, like closed off Japan._

The two had been traveling for a few days when Ivarstead finally came into view. It was a modest little hamlet sitting at the base of a ridiculously tall mountain. There where about three buildings, a mill and half a dozen guards patrolling along the roads. The two heroes tied their horses up in front of the Vilamyr Inn and went inside.

"We don't get many visitors up here, unless they're headed up to High Hrothgar, of course," the inn keeper, Wilhelm, greeted warmly.  
"That's where we're headed," Folkvar grunted. "But not until morning. Do you have any rooms available?"  
"I've got the two on your left open," Wilhelm replied. Wilhelm eyed Folkvar and Link's gear wearily, noting that the two of them looked more like the adventuring type than the pilgrim type, though the line between the two was a fine one since Skyrim was riddled with things that would kill you regardless if you were a pilgrim or an adventurer. "Oh, and if I were you I'd keep away from that barrow on the east side of town... it's haunted," he added for safe measure, just to make sure the two wouldn't loot the local burial mound and get themselves cursed or the town cursed. All it did peaked Link's interest.  
"Can you tell us more about the barrow?" Link asked.  
"There ain't much more to tell!" Wilhelm said nervously. "They're haunted and you should stay away. Look, I've seen one of the spirits with my very own eyes. When it glared at me, I swear it burned right through my soul."  
"Do the spirits haunt your town as well?" Folkvar asked sternly.  
"Fortunately, they seem to be sticking to the barrow. I think they're guarding it. Certainly isn't helping my business any; who'd want to rent a room anywhere near a haunted barrow?" Wilhelm lamented. Though he didn't really have much to complain about since many pigrims from all over Tamriel came to his inn to rest before and after their hike up the mountains, but humans will be humans.  
"We could investigate the barrow for you!" Link said eagerly. Folkvar had been teaching Link more fighting skills on their way up to Ivarstead and Link was eager to use his new skills to help people. (And impress Folkvar)  
"If you think there's anything you can do, be my guest," Wilhelm offered.  
"Has anyone ever been in the barrow before?" Folkvar asked.  
"About a year or two ago, some elf named Wyndelius came through; said he was some sort of a treasure hunter. I warned him not to go in there, just like I warned you. The next night we heard screams from the barrow, and that was it. We never saw him again."  
Link paled slightly, but his resolve was set. He was going to stop the hauntings. Folkvar just sighed and payed for their rooms. Then they left the inn so Folkvar could have a more private one to one with the boy who was eager for adventure. The barrow wasn't visible from the Inn's porch, but Link could feel the unrest wafting from behind the house across the road.  
"Listen, lad," Folkvar scolded. "Don't go getting that man's hopes up like that. We're here just to stay for the night and restock our supplies before heading up the mountain for High Hrothgar."  
"Folkvar," Link shivered. "I can feel the spirits in that barrow."  
"Lad," Folkvar snapped impatiently. But he did notice that Link looked paler than normal. "You feeling alright?"  
"There's something evil in there and it's getting very upset," Link said nervously. His hand was glowing faintly again. "We have to stop it."  
"Link we..."  
"We have to!" Link repeated.  
"Fine, but you're not going in there without me," Folkvar finally caved. Link looked up at him nervously but determined. He was going with him regardless of what Folkvar said. The burly nord sighed and started off for the barrow with the young boy following close behind, as usual. They entrance of the barrow was lined with coffins full of bones. One coffin had two compete skeletons in it.  
"Folkvar?" Link pointed nervously to the coffin.  
"Probably a couple," Folkvar observed.  
He pushed open the rusty door and together, the two heroes entered the ancient ruin. On the other side of the ruins was an ancient set of spiral stairs. Folkvar hoped they'd hold his and the boy's weight. They looked rickety. The two proceeded with caution.  
At the base of the stairs was an old rusty bookshelf lined with linen mummy wraps, a burial urn, and a small, glowing pink gem.  
"Folkvar? What's that gem?"  
"A soul gem," Folkvar explained. "Mages us it to trap the energy of their fallen enemies. They use it to power some of their more complex spells of enchantment. Don't touch it. It could be very dangerous."  
"Okay," Link eyes the gem wearily.  
They continued on. Folkvar drew his sword and Link followed suit. His hand was lighting up the cavern like a torch now, even though he was wearing gloves. They walked down the slopped corridor; having to duck out of the way of a long since fallen pillar of stone. Link found it odd the braziers in the barrow were still lit.  
At the end of the corridor was another burial room. A long deceased corps was hanging upright in an alcove of the wall. Link eyed it nervously. Suddenly, a dry, hoarse voice began to speak.  
"Leave this place... Leave this place." It warned. Link looked to his right and blanched. A ghost was standing on the other side of a barred archway. Link was certain it was the ghost of Wyndelius, the unfortunate explorer who had ended the barrow years before them. He. Must have met with a terrible fate.  
"Leave... Leave... Leave..." The ghost warned.  
"Begone foul spirit," Folkvar warned. He was griping his sword so tight his knuckles turned white under his bracers. The spirit of Wyndelius passed trough a wall, but Link could swear he sill heard whispered that could have been the wind except that this far underground the air was stagnant.  
Folkvar relaxed slightly when the threat vanished and gave the room a through look over. Besides the one corpse visible from the hallway, there was one other to the left of the archway and another pile of human bones to the right. In order to continue their investigation of the Hauntings of the Malevolent Spirit of Wynelius they would need to get past the barred door where Wyndelius had given his warning. Across form the ex-treasure hunter's barred archway was a smaller room with four leavers, one on each side of the door way.  
"A leaver puzzle?" Link asked Folkvar.  
"Most likely," Folkvar agreed. Link entered the room and reached for one of the leavers "Be care..." Folkvar started to warn the boy, but it was too late. Link had already switched a leaver and a barred door slammed down, trapping Link in the leaved room with Folkvar on the other side of the barred doorway.  
"Hey!" Link shouted excitedly. Folkvar did not see why Link would be exited since he was now trapped in the little leaver room. "Folkvar, I opened the other arch way! Progress!" Folkvar glanced behind him and saw that the leaver had caused the barred doorway behind him to open.  
"Link, that's dangerous," Folkvar scolded.  
"This whole place is dangerous," Link grumbled in his deference. His minor success with the leavers had him feeling more confident. Now of only he could get both doorways open at the same time... Link pulled the leaver next to the first one and opened his room, but closed Wyndelius's door way as well as the one they had come from.  
"Now we're trapped in here!" Folkvar complained.  
Link pulled another leaver on the other side of the now open archway hoping that it would open all three doorways. Instead it closed his doorway. "So that leaver does that," he noted. All he had to do now was see what the last leaver did. He switch the last leaver but no doorways opened for him. But he did hear a small clicking noise. Instinctively, he ducked, covering his head with his arms. Poisonous darts launched through the room through dart holes Link hadn't noticed before.  
"Link!" Folkvar shouted.  
"I'm okay!" Link shouted back. "I just won't pull that leaver again!"  
"This is what I mean by dangerous!" Folkvar snapped worriedly.  
Link sheepishly pulled the third and then second leavers, opening all three doorways at the same time, freeing them from the entrapment of barred doorways.  
"But I'm not hurt," Link protested.  
"You almost died!" Folkvar snapped. "That's why I wanted you out of here and not pulling leavers and getting turned into a pincushion!"  
"But..."  
"Just let me pull the leavers next time, lad," Folkvar snapped. He lead Link into the fourth room. There were three more barred doors in a row along a corridor to their left, an iron door to their right, and a caved in passageway that used to lead straight but would take a large man force with pick axes to clear. Link could just make out the ghost of Wyndelius at the end of the barred off corridor to the left. There was a pull chain next to the first barred door, but Link wanted to know what was behind the iron door on the right. When he went to open it, it was locked. He sighed and turned to see Folkvar inspecting every aspect of the corridor. When he deemed it safe enough he motioned for Link to stand right behind him.  
He pulled the chain.  
The first door opened and Link started to walk down, but Folkvar stopped him. Just when Link would have been if Folkvar hadn't stopped him spikes shot out of the wall and then retreated. The second door opened and the ghost disappeared.  
"Oh," Link said. Folkvar had just saved his life. He really had to be more carful in these types of places.  
As they continued through the barrow, Link wondered why the only other person they had seen was ghost of Wyndelius. Personally, he expected more monsters and other spirits who had passed away trying to find the treasure of Shroud Hearth Barrow. He was fine with puzzles and booby traps though. They weren't as scary as monsters, eventhough Folvkar found them just as dangerous to his young, self appointed charge. Link looked up from his thoughts of monsters just in time to see the ghost of Wyndelius loose his transparency, proving that he was not indeed the Ghost of Wyndelius Past, but the Flesh of Wyndelius Present. Wyndelius snarl at him and Folkvar with the perfect facial expression of a man gone mad. The ex-ghost raised his glowing blue hands and shouted a single, shrieking threat.  
"Death comes for you now!"  
Folkvar grabbed the back of Link's shirt and the two of them pressed themselves against wall as lighting arched through the room. Link felt his hair stand on end and little bolts of stack electricity shock him. Folkvar's beard frizzed a little more than usual, but the nord practically willed the static hairs back into place.  
"He can't do this for much longer," Folkvar whispered reassuringly to Link, who looked paler than Wyndelius had in ghost form. When the electricity eventually stopped, Folkvar quietly told Link to stay hidden while he dealt with the crazed wizard.  
"Are you dead yet?" Wyndelius the fake ghost giggled. Folkvar came out of hiding with a mighty battle cry and brought his mighty broadsword down on the mage's head. Folkvar used the flat of his sword to minimize blood splatter since he didn't think Link had to go through seeing a cleaved head when the boy grew nauseous about skinning bears. Despite Folkvar's best efforts to minimize the gore the mage's scull did cave in, killing his instantly and leaving a mangled mess on the floor.  
"It's safe now, lad," Folkvar called. Link nervously peaked out of his handing spot, only to get clammy when he saw the caved in skull of their assailant. Most of the enemies he had come across in Hyrule never left corpses like that. The monsters in hyrule were made of magic, so they'd disappear when their life force was extinguished. Link inhaled deeply and stepped out of hiding.  
Anything Folkvar can handle, he reassured himself, I can handle too.  
The first thing he noticed was the gilded iron door on the other side of the bend.  
"This looks important," Link said. He pushed it open. But he did step through it without giving the newest room a look over. He had learned that in tombs like this, you waited for something to happen before walking through a door and into an axe. It was a good this he did, since the room on the other side burst into flames. "I think the fire means it's important." Link waited for the fire to stop, but it didn't so he dejectedly closed the door, to hear the fire stop, so he opened it again to a flameless room.  
On the other side of the room was a large corridor that had a door with a switch puzzle on it. An indent in the shape of a paw print was marked on a sapphire colored circle just at Link's eye level.  
"Looks like we can't go any farther, lad," Folkvar remarked. "That's a special Nordic puzzle door. It requires an ancient Nordic key. Unless that old fool had it on him, witch is unlikely, we won't be going that way."  
"We should check anyway," Link said. He wanted to know more about the crazed Mage. The continued on through the room where Wyndelius had attack them to find a small living area. There was an alchemy table as well as a glowing fire in the hearth. A journal sat on a table in the back of the room. Link opened it curiously and stared to read.

_Journal of Wyndelius Gatharian  
4E 200, 18 Morning Star  
I've set up camp inside the barrow. This has to be the place. According to all my research, the burial chamber should be located here. All I need is some time undisturbed to find the claw. It must be hidden somewhere._

_4E 200, 25 Morning Star  
Had a close call today will that fool Wilhelm. He came close to ending the barrow, but I was able to scare him off by rattling some pottery shards in a bag. These people are far too superstitious for their own good. Gives me an idea._

_4E 200, 28 Morning Star  
After a few failures I've come up with a mixture that should do the trick. The glow is perfect - I should look exactly like one of the supposed spirits the people of Ivarstead believe is haunting this barrow. Going to test it out tomorrow._

_4E 200, 29 Morning Star  
Success! It worked better than I could have imagined. All I had to do was wander about the entrance to the barrow at night and wave my arms about. I had to stop myself from laughing aloud as they ran away. This should keep them at away while I continue searching for the claw._

_4E 200, 11 Hearthfire  
Almost half a year has gone by and no sign of the claw or any clues as to its whereabouts. This is becoming maddening. It has to be here! Can't risk hiring any assistance so I'll have to continue alone._

_4E 200, 20 Sun's Dusk  
It isn't here. It can't be here. This isn't right. It must be the people of Ivarstead... they must be on to my ruse, they're toying with me. They want to find the burial chamber on the their own and keep the riches for themselves!_

_4E 200, 18 Evening Star  
Why? Why are they tormenting me? Why not just destroy me? I'm... who am I? My head is becoming clouded, I can't remember anything. I have to read my journal to remember my purpose. Am I a part of this tomb? Am I meant to guard it? What's becoming of me?_

_1E 1050_

_...They shall not take my treasure. They shAll all pay dearly for their crimes. Any who set foot within these walls will taste my wrath, my power. I am the guardian of Shroud Hearth Barrow! All who oppose me will fall..._

When Link reached the end of the journal, he felt pity for the would be treasure hunter. He had fallen mentally ill in his search for gold and jewels. It was kind of sad.  
"We should take this back to Wilhelm so he knows what happened here," Link said.  
"Good, lad," Folkvar said.  
As they left, the feeling of for boarding drifting from the barrow did not distinguish. Link had a feeling this little adventure was not quiet over yet, even with the body of the poor mad Wyndelius Gatharian laying cold on the stones of the Nordic tomb.

"I found this in the barrow," Link handed Wilhelm the journal.  
"Let me see that!" Wilhelm took it eagerly. He flipped through it, reading each passage with interest. "...I can't believe this... It was all just a fabrication of this Wyndelius character? I can't believe we were so stupid. Well, least I can do is give you something for taking care of him." He tried to handed Link a sapphire colored imitation of a four toed dragon hand that was very similar to a bird of pray's talons.  
"I can't..." Link started.  
"If you won't accept this as payment, consider it a gift," Wilhelm insisted. "You've saved my business. It's the least I can do." Wilhelm put the Claw in Link's hands.  
"Want to go through the rest of the barrow, lad?" Folkvar asked as they left the inn to tend to their horses. Link looked down at the claw and nodded. He had to find the source of his forbearing feeling. He had already considered it being the fact that dragons were apparently rising from their graves, but that didn't feel right.  
"I want to know what was so important to that man to make him go crazy like that," Link said. He felt that was a good cover up for his unease. He didn't want Folkvar to think he w crazy or anything.  
"We'll go in the morning," Folkvar said. The sun was starting to set and the barrow was dangerous enough during the day time. Who knew what lurked around old tombs in the dead of night. Better if they didn't find out, Folkvar decided.

The next morning Link found himself standing in front of the nordic puzzle door in Shroud Hearth Barrow. He looked down at the claw in his hands and at the markings on its palm. A moth, an owl, and a wolf were engraved in it from top to bottom starting at the top three talons and ending on the heal. The puzzle door's three rings engraved with a wolf, an owl, and a moth starting at eh ceiling and ending at the sapphire circle. Link touched the inner circle and it rotated to an owl. He touched it again and it rotated to a wolf. He did the same to the top one until it turned to a moth. He placed the claw into the circle, pushed, and rotated. With a rumble, the huge door started to sink into the ground. Link pulled the claw out and took a step back, not wanting to get crushed by moving rocks.  
Behind the door was a crumbling hallway. At the end of the hallway was a table, half buried in rubble. A few old books, another soul gem, and a helmet sat on the table. A downward slopping hallway breached off to the left and burning braziers lit the tombs of long dead warriors. A waft of moldy air brushed past Link and Folkvar and disaster into the fresher by comparison air of the hallway preceding the puzzle door.  
"Lad, past here there will be monsters," Folkvar said.  
"I know," Link responded. "I can handle it." And the two made their way through through the burial tomb.  
At the end of the branching hallway was a large room full of five metal coffins. In the middle of the room under a hanging light fixture was a pedestal. At the far end of the room was a small barred off alcove with a leaver close to the ground. Link had a feeling that the leaver was important so he approached it. As he got closer, he heard a creaking notice and turned towards it quickly, his shield raised, his sword gripped tight, and his heart beating fast. The coffin on the opposite side of the room opened and the ancient warrior it encased stepped out and groaned creakily.  
"Dear goddesses," Link paled. He had never seen anything looked at him with such malice or ferocity before. Before the undead warrior could get very far, Folkvar put his sword through its torso, effectively stopping it's advance on the terrified boy. "What was that!" Link exclaimed.  
"A Draugr," Folkvar explained. "The deceased in this land to not always find peace."  
"Should I pull this leaver? There're are more coffins. They could open or something."  
"You said it yourself, lad," Folkvar said. "You can handle it."  
Link nodded and switched the leaver with his foot; opening another barred archway. Luckily the restless draugr's friends didn't feel like waking up, so the two heroes where able to proceed without protest.  
On the other side of the previously barred of hallway was a spiraling stair case just like the previous one except this time going up. At the top of the stairs was a locked door, but lower on the stairs was an unlocked one. As Link approached the door he heard a creaking noise that did not sound friendly on the other side. Link the door cautiously, expecting anything.  
The door seemed to lead nowhere at first. On the ground there was a pressure plate that Link stepped over. To the left,was a set of stairs and another pressure plate that Link and Folkvar stepped over. Since Link was looking down to avoid pressure plates, he didn't see the undead archer aiming for his head. Fortunately, the skeletons lack of eyeballs make it harder to aim and the arrow whizzed past Link's left ear and bounced harmlessly off the wall behind him. Link looked up to see a living skeleton gnashing its teeth at him. With the reflexes and instinct of a warrior, Link cleaved at the skeleton with his hand-and-a-half sword sending its parts clattering on the marble floor.  
"Good job, lad," Folkvar praised. Skeletons may be easy kills since that lacked most of the things that held a creature together, but the nerves it took to kill the already dead were lacking in most people, even in Skyrim, land of the things that eat people.  
Link felt a swell of pride and joy over take him. He had made Folkvar proud. Feeling more and more confident, Link stepped over the skeleton's remains and opened the door to the next part of the tomb. They entered the biggest room yet.  
To the right was another iron bookshelf covered in dust and rotten old books. In front of them was a wooden wall separating the entrance of the room from a lower level burial chamber next to the bookshelf was a window. On the other side of the window was a lit brazier and farther down the room was a chest. Link and Folkvar made their way along the ledge, but they had to fall back when more skeletal archers attacked.  
Link observed the room some more, noting an oil like substance lining the floor of the lower level. Above it were some lit pottery lamps hanging from a metal light fixture. Link took out his bow and took a deep breath. He aimed for the rope holding one of the lamps up and fired. As the lamp fell the little flame inside it sparked with insensity. When it shattered on the ground the air rumbled and the floor under the skeletons exploded into a fiery inferno.  
"Smart thinking," Folkvar ruffled Link's hair. Link smiled.  
They searched the room with the chest and Link found some septims. He asked Folkvar if it was right to pocket the change and Folkvar responded "Well, they won't be using it."  
After Link and Folkvar were sure there was noting else of value in the room, they went across the lower level room and up the ramp on the other side... Only to be met with a pair of angry draugr. Link raised his shield to block an axe and Folkvar bashed his broadsword against the shield of another. Link shifted under his shield as his draugr continued to mindlessly bash at his shield. He moved in a position that made it possible to block the entourage of axe blows while attacking at the draugr's legs with his sword. He snapped the lower legs of the draugr with one clean sweep and when it continued to move, he impaled it with a finishing blow through the chest.  
Link looked over to see Folkvar had bashed at the other draugr's shield so powerfully that the dried out joints had given way and its shield arm had snapped off. Folkvar had then cut clean through the stomached, cutting the undead beast in half. After they both made sure the draugrs were good and dead this time, they continued on to the next door.  
There was a trip wire on the ground that they made a note not to spring. When Link went to step over the trip wire, an arrow flew over his head. Link stepped back and drew his own bow. He notched an arrow and peaked around the corner to see a draugr with an ancient looking bow standing vigil. Link pulled back on his bow and fired and arrow straight through the draugr's head, putting to rest. This woke its two sleeping buddies. One wielded an axe and the other a sword and shield.  
Link and Folkvar charged them simultaneously, stepping over the trip wire, and up the stairs on the other side. The undead warriors weren't expecting such direct tactics, so it caught them off guard and the two living heroes dispatched the long dead heroes quickly.  
As they ventured on, Link nearly stepped on a pressure plate, but he noticed it in time. It was a good thing too, since it would have triggered a spiked wall to swing out and ram into him. As they approached the next door, two guardian draugr stepped out from their tombs and barred their way. One drew an axe and a shield and the second lifted it's hands to cast the same spell that Wyndelius had used after his ghostliness had worn off.  
Link lifted his shield just in time to avoid getting electrocuted to death. Folkvar shimmied around Link and took out the shield and axe draugr effectively by smashing its head in with his sword. Link bashed the undead mage with his shield, causing it to stager and stop shooting lighting from its fingers. Link took the opportunity to drive his sword through the draugr's chest, ending its undead life.  
Link found a key on the mage and took it to the door. When he unlocked and opened it, the rusted key snapped in half. On the other side of door he found stone stairs leading down to a partially flooded room at the bottom. Link proceeded cautiously and found that the room was not in fact flooded, but that an underground river flowed through the middle. On either side of the river were raised floors. To the right there was a pathway leading to the second floor of the room. On the second floor the left side of the room was a raised wooden bridge. At the end of the room was a waterfall. A little stone bridge went under where the bigger wooden one would go when lowered. On the other end of the bridge was a dresser with a pair of gauntlets and another soul gem. Link and Folkvar went up to the second floor of the room.  
There were four rotating pillars, each showing a metal carving of a snake. There was a pressure plate on the ground. Link pressed on it with his foot and heard a clicking noise. The door in front of the metal pressure plate opened and with a throaty snarl, a draugr attempted to freeze Link with ice magic but Link reflexes proved true as he raised his shield just in time to avoid being turned into a Linksicle. Folkvar charged the offending draugr and stopped it with a single swing. In doing so he stepped on another pressure plate in the room and activated rotating walls to revel the correct pattern for the turning pillar puzzle, whale, bird, snake, whale.  
Link rotated the pillars with Folkvar's help and then stepped on the pressure plate. The bridge fell down, making it possible to cross. Link and Folkvar avoided yet another pressure plate and Link sent and arrow into the chest of another draugr archer. The stepped over a trip wire that would set off falling rocks and found a huge set of wooden double door. Together, they pushed them open and entered the true depths of Shroud Hearth Barrow.

A hallway expanded out and ended at a doorway with a raised iron gate and two braziers on each side. Link and Folkvar continued down the path. It was far too late to turn back now. Link stepped cautiously into the final chamber of the barrow. A raised platform held four metal coffins and raised above that was another metal coffin. This one was gilded. Lining the base of the gilded coffin's platform were two more coffins. Before Folkvar could enter the room with Link, the raised iron gate crashed down, trapping Link on one side and Folkvar on the other.  
"Folkvar?" Link turned to see the gate bar him from his guardian.  
"Link!" Folkvar shouted. "Behind you!"  
Link spun around to see the four coffin lids get thrown off and four very terrifying skeletons stepped out. Link did what heroes do best and defended himself against the onslaught of the undead. The skeletons were easy, but two draugrs stepped out the two coffins lining the platforms and charged the moment Link defeated the final skeleton, not giving the boy a moment to gather his wits. Link felt all the color drain from his face and raised his shield to deflect two axes at the same time. He tried the same maneuver he had used on the first draugr, but one of the draugr's shields bashed into his, sending him sprawled on the ground. He could hear Folkvar shouting his name but he sounded distant.  
Before the two axes could cleave off his arms, Link rolled away and pushed himself to his feet. He held his sword in both hand and focused all his energy into it. The sword started to glow fiercely, powered by Link's hylian magic. Link spun his sword at the two draugrs and sent them flying into a stone pilar each. The unnatural glow in their eyes dimmed and they fell, lifeless, to the ground.  
Link turned to smile at Folkvar, but before he could even get a glimpse of the nord's face, a loud booming echoed through the cavern and a warlord stepped out of his coffin. Link turned to see its sunken eyes and rotted flesh. In it's head was a horned helmet and he had much more armor than any other draugr Link had come across so far.  
"You are not the one who first intruded into my temple." The draugr snarled as vehemently as his dried vocal cords would allow. "No matter. I have risen, and I will take back Ivarstead, my home, and then I will rule over all of Tamriel."  
"Not if I stop you first," Link retorted nervously. The draugr chuckled darkly.  
Link readied his sword and the warlord readied his axe. The draugr charged and attacked Link's left side. Link paired with his sword and then bashed with his shield. The two shield collided and as both opponents pressed against each other for an advantage, they practically waltzed around for a few moments in a deathly dance before the draugr hooked his axe around the base of Link's sword and opened its mouth.  
"FUS RO DAH!" The draugr shouted.  
Link felt an unrelenting force slam him into the base of the platform. His head hit the stone and made a sickening crack. The axe wrenched Link's sword from his arms and would have rendered him weaponless but for his dagger. Link, head spinning and ears ringing, drew his dagger. He raised his shield to defend himself against an over hand swing of the warlord's axe. Link managed to stick the dagger into a weak spot in the draugr lord's armor, causing it to drop its shield and stagger back a few paces.  
It glared at Link with all the hatred it could muster which was a lot. Link wimpered and scampered away from the raging warlord. He found his sword lying in a pool water in a darkened area of the chamber and turned to see the perusing draugr raise its axe. Link grabbed his sword and lunged for the spot in the draugr's neck where there was a gap in the armor. The warlords axe stopped its deadly decent as Link sword priced rotten flesh. The draugr staggered to the ground with one last dry howl and its head fell limply to the side, hanging on to the rest of it's body by a few strands of sinew. It was dead and Link was alive.  
The gate lifted and Folkvar rushed to Link, who was sitting in a daze on the floor. He scoped Link up in his arms and gave him a look over. Other than a nasty gash on the back of his head and few bruises on his shield arm, the boy was fine, though still a bit dazed.  
"Folkvar?" Link squinted. "My head feels funny."  
"You're just concussed," Folkvar sighed. "You'll be fine, lad. Just stop scarring me like that, it's not nice."  
"Sorry," Link slurred.  
"I just need you to answer a few questions," Folkvar said. "Can you do that?"  
"M'kay," Link mumbled. His mouth felt dry.  
"What's your name?"  
"Link," he answered. "But you know that?"  
"I know I know that," Folkvar sighed. "I'm just making sure you still know that."  
Folkvar dressed Link's head wound with some clean linen he had in his pack and helped Link get steady on his feet. He lead Link across a wooden bridge where they passed through a tunnel and found a gilded chest.  
Link opened it with Folkvar's help and pulled out a total of 248 septims as well as a horde of nice gems. Folkvar also found a dragon wall in the end of the chamber with the gilded chest that held words of power that he understood the moment he approached the wall, but he didn't worry the boy about it.

Link tried to blink the light out of his eyes when Folkvar helped him out of the barrow. The sun was much too bright for his already throbbing head.  
"You alright, lad?" Folkvar asked again. Link nodded.  
"M'fine," he mumbled. "Folkvar, I defeated a warlord and saved the town."  
"Aye, lad, you did," Folkvar agreed. "Scared me half to death in the process. But, aye. You did good, lad."  
"Really?" Link asked.  
"Really," Folkvar ruffled Link's hair again, but gently. Link had a big grin on his face.

The next morning, Folkvar arranged with the grateful inn keeper to have their horses cared for since the mountain was too steep for them to climb. As they approached the bridge leading to the base of the seven thousand step climb they found two men conversing.  
"On you way up the seven thousand steps again, Klimmek?" Said the first man, an elf by the name of Gwilin.  
"Not today, I'm just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar. The path isn't safe." Klimmek responded.  
"Aren't the Greybeards expecting some supplies?" Gwilin asked.  
"Honestly, I'm not certain. I've yet to be allowed into the monetary. Perhaps one day."  
"Um, excuse us," Link asked. He felt better after a good night's rest.  
"Ah, headed up the mountain? I'm about to make a delivery myself," Klimmek said.  
"What types of deliveries do you make?" Link asked.  
"Mostly food supplies like dried fish and salted meats; you know, thing that keep fresh for a long time. The Greybeards tend not to get out much, if you catch my meaning."  
"What do you get in return?" Folkvar asked gruffly.  
"We'll, it's kind of an understanding between us. I mean, it just wouldn't feel right to charge the for a bit of preserved food. Trouble is, my leg's aren't what they used to be and climbing the seven thousand steps takes its toll."  
"We could deliver the supplies for you," Link offered.  
"Really? That would be kind of you. Here take this bag of supplies." Klimmek handed Link a bag he had a been carrying. "At the top of the steps, you'll see the offering chest. Just leave the bag inside and you're done."  
"Anything we should watch out for during the climb?" Folkvar asked.  
"Well, there's the occasional wolf pack or stray, but that's all I've ever had to deal with. Shouldn't be a problem for the likes of you," Klimmek eyes Folkvar's huge sword passively. "Other than that, watch your footing. In these conditions, the stairs can be treacherous."  
"Thank you, sir!" Link waved as Folkvar lead them us the stairs. They began their seven thousand step climb up to High Hrothgar to answer the Greybeards call.  
At the base of the mountain there was a little shrine Link read the words engraved onto the shrine.

_Emblem I_

_Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus_

_Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs_

_For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land_

Link found that description of the voice accurate. He had only experienced three words of it but those three words had hurt a lot. He looked up to see Folkvar about ten steps ahead of him and he scurried to catch up.

By mid day, Link's legs where starting to ache.  
"Are we there yet?" Link asked meekly.  
"Lad, we're not even close," Folkvar said.  
Link saw another shrine and read that one two.

_Emblem II_

_Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus_

_The dragons presided over the crawling masses_

_Men were weak then, and had no Voice_

By the time they reached High Hrothgar it was four hours past high noon the only other living creature they had met of the path was the odd rabbit or mountain goat and a hunter named Barknar who liked to meditate on the mountain sides. The higher up they got, The colder the air grew. There were seven more shrines as well. They read:

_Emblem III_

_The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in the Old Times_

_Unafraid to war with the dragons and their Voices_

_But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts_

_Emblem IV_

_Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man_

_Together they taught Men to use the Voice_

_The Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue_

_Emblem V_

_Men prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world_

_Proving for all that their Voice was too strong_

_Although their sacrifices were many-fold_

_Emblem VI_

_With their Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer_

_Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice_

_Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World_

_Emblem VII_

_The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled_

_Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation_

_To understand how Strong Voices could fail_

_Emblem VIII_

_Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned_

_The seventeen disputants could not shout Him down_

_Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World_

_Emblem IX_

_For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name_

_Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summonsed to Hrothgar_

_They blessed him and named him Dovahkiin_

Link remembered Farengar had talked about Tiber Septim when he came to make sure Folkvar answered the Call. He had said that he was an emperor and a hero and even ascended into divinity. What if Folkvar became a god? Link found it unlikely that Folkvar would want to be a god, let alone Dragonborn. Link placed the supply bag in the chest like Klimmek told him and the followed Folkvar to the front doors of the huge monastery.  
The temple nestled into the side of the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel was very large. It was made of black metal and black marble and was decorated with carvings of ancient looking men and ancient looking dragons. The double doors that Folkvar stood before had a carving on each door of a flying dragon an above that a bearded man with a large nose. Though the man's nose in the carving was slightly comical. Folkvar did not feel like laughing.  
Folkvar was very nervous about entering the monastery. He felt normal enough now, but when he opened those doors and entered, the Greybeards just might recognize him as Dragonborn and he would be named a hero. He did not want to be a hero at all. He just wanted to settle down with Link, his family, his son, and have a quiet life of hunting, fishing, and farming in their little house by the lake. But he had a feeling that in order to reach that goal he would first have to open those doors. After a long time of wondering how much he'd regret entering the monastery, he entered the monastery.  
The inside was warm, compared to the freezing air outside and was well lit. Folkvar felt Link's presence behind him as he walked farther into the room. When the doors behind him shut with a clang, a group of five monks in dark clothing and sporting big, grey beards approached him. The was no doubt in Folkvar's mind that these were the men whose voices had called him.  
"So... A Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age." One of them said.  
"You called," Folkvar grunted. He had his arms crossed defensively in front of him. He realized these men could kill him with naught but a whisper.  
"Do you truly have the gift?" the monk said. That was when he saw Link.  
"Why have you brought this child with you?" He said calmly.  
"There was no where else for him to go," Folkvar explained.  
"What is that on his hand?" The monk pointed out that Link's Triforce was glowing.  
"It's a birth mark," Folkvar responded.  
"It is more than that," the monk said back. "We'll see if he can withstand our Voice. Show us, Dragonborn. Shout so that we may listen."  
Folkvar sighed and opened his mouth and shouted, "FUS!" A gust of force knocked the monk back about five steps. Link was both awed and terrified. But mostly awed.  
"You are the Dragonborn," the monk said. "Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now, tell me Dragonborn, why have you come here?" Arngeir asked.  
"You tell me," Folkvar snapped. "I'd rather be showing the lad how to fish."  
"I can fish just fine. Those fish are list super fish," Link muttered.  
"What I meant was why have you answered our call, but no matter. We are honored to welcome the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar," the master monk replied. If he had heard the irritation in Folkvar's voice, he did not show it. "We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."  
"What destiny," Folkvar snarled.  
"All in good time, Dragonborn," the monk replied, once again ignoring Folkvar's malice. "We can show you the Way, but not your destination."  
"I suppose I'll have to get this 'destiny' crap out of the way if we're getting out of here." Folkvar grumbled.  
"Yes, you will," the monk sounded amused. Link wondered how old he was. He seemed older than anyone he had ever met before, almost as old as the Great Deku Tree.  
"Fine," Folkvar sighed. "Show me the Way."  
"You have shown us that you are truely Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift to understand the Tongue. But, do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen." Master Arngeir lead Folkvar deeper into room but motioned for Link to stay back. "When you shout you are speaking in the language of the dragons. Being Dragonborn means you have Dragon blood coursing through you giving you the inborn ability to automatically understand Words of Power. All shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you Ro, the second Word in Unrelenting Force, the shout you demonstrated. Ro means balance in the Dragon Tongue. Combine it with Fus, force, to focus your Thu'um more sharply and become more powerful."  
One of the monks stepped forward and began to whisper towards the floor. Though he was speaking as quietly as possible, the air around him began to vibrate with power. Letters of the Dragon Language began to form and glow on the ground between the monk and Folkvar. The glow burned itself into Folkvar's mind and he learned the word Ro, balance, just like that.  
"You learned a new word like a master..." Arngeir remarked. "You truly do have the gift. Perhaps you can avert what is to come. But learning a Word of Power is only the first step... you must unlock it's meaning. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragons life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of Ra."  
Einarth looked directly at Folkavr and began to glow violently. Folkavr absorbed the glow and became aware of the meaning of the word Ro, balance. Everything is equal in it's own right but not all is the same. Good and evil are equal but balance is not always the best. Balance is not perfection.  
"Now, let us see how quickly you can master your news Thu'um," Arngeir said. "Us this shout to strict the targets as they appear."  
Folkvar stood off the side and faced the center of the room. He could see Link sitting by the door watching him with big eyes. The boy didn't fully understand what was happening, but then again, neither did Folkvar.  
The first target appeared, FIIK LO SAH, a shadowy imitation of the monks, and with a mighty FUS RO, Folkvar knocked it to the ground. Arngeir prompted Folkvar to try again and when the second one appeared he shouted a second time. When the third ghostly monk image appeared, Folkvar repeated the shout for the third, and final time.  
"Impressive," Master Arngeir remarked. "Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn. We will perform your next trail in the quart yard. Follow Master Borri."  
When Link started to stand, Arngeir held up a hand to tell him to wait there. Link sat back down dejected as Folkvar followed Borri to the back of the monastery. The courtyard was freezing and harsh winds blew through it. The air was thin as well. Folkvar followed Borri in a disgruntled fashion to a gate in the courtyard.  
"We will now see how you learn a completely new shout," Arngeir said. "Master Borri will teach you Wuld, which means whirlwind." Borri whispered to the ground, much like how Einarth had taught him the word ro. The monk then taught him the meaning of the word, and Folkvar was ready to use the shout.  
"Master Wulgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be you're turn," Arngeir lead Folkvar in front of the gate. Borri shouted open the gate and Wulgar shouted and moved faster than Folkvar thought possible so he could eat through the gate before it closed as moment later.  
"Now it is your turn," Arngeir prompted. The gate opened and Folkvar shouted WULD and burst to the other side of the gate. He nearly tripped when he stopped speeding, but he didn't fall.  
"Your quick mastery of the the Thu'um is... Astonishing," Arngeir exclaimed. "I'd heard the stories of the abilities of the Dragonborn, but I didn't think I'd see it for myself..."  
"What's next?" Folkvar anted to get this over and dens with as soon as possible so he could get back to training Link on how to protect himself.  
"You are now ready for your last trial," Arngeir sounded a little less enthused as before. "Retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller from his tomb in the accent fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the way of the voice and you will return."  
Folkvar had few questions to ask as they returned back inside. Link was still waiting for them patiently where Folkvar and the four monks had left him.  
"Why are the dragons returning? Does it have something to do with me?" Folkvar asked.  
"No doubt," Arngeir said. "The appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident. Your destiny is surely bound up with the return of the Dragons. You should focus on honing your Voice, and soon your path will be clear."  
"Can't you tell me more?" Folkvar complained.  
"There is indeed much that we know that you do not. That does not mean you are ready to understand it," Arngeir answered.  
Folkvar snorted. He found it typical that they would continue to treat him like a child and not tell him everything.  
"Do not let your easy mastery of the Voice tempt you, that has been the fall of many Dragonborn before you."  
Folkvar grunted and patted Link's should to tell him that it was time to go back down the mountain. The two left the monastery and Link bowed respectively to the monks and followed Folkvar obediently.  
"Winds guide you," Arngeir said farewell to the two, even though they were already out of earshot. "And, Dragonborn, protect that child. His destiny is equal, of not greater, than yours."

"Where are we going now, Folkvar?" Link asked.  
"The Greybeards want me to retrieve a horn from a tomb near Morthal," Folkvar said. "It looks like we're going to have to head down there if we're to unravel this 'return of the dragons' mystery. But we won't reach Ivarstead by night fall so we'll have to camp on the side of the mountain. After that we'll stay at Wilhelm's Inn again and then there will be a two day's ride to Whiterun, where I'll higher myself to trading caravan to Morthal, if there is one. Morthal is small for a hold capital, but traveling through the marshes alone is dangerous."  
"But we have each other?" Link suggested. He smiled up at Folkvar confidently and Folkvar chuckled. He reached out and ruffled Link's hair playfully.  
"Aye, lad," Folkvar agreed. "We have got each other. But even so, there are hauntings. Awful, magic creatures that are best fought in numbers."  
"Okay."  
They camped in front of the eighth shrine since it was protected from the wind. Folkvar reluctantly found Link huddling up to him for warmth. The boy was wrapped in his bed roll and deep asleep. Halfway through the night, the boy started having a nightmare. Folkvar was awoken to the sound the boy's whimpering. He didn't want to wake the sleeping child, so instead he held him and patted the boy's head soothingly. Link's nightmare dwindled and he nestled closer to Folkvar. The gruff nord wondered if the feeling he was feeling was what being a father felt like. He decided it was and went back to sleep.

The next morning, Link discovered that going down was not as easy as going up. He found it hard to keep his footing on the slippery snow and nearly tumbled of the mountain but Folkvar grabbed the back of his cloak in time to stop him from plummeting to his death.  
They restocked their supplies from Wilhelm the moring after that and started for the ride to Whiterun. They were following a river that will eventually take them all the way to Whiterun. Once again, even though Link had already lived in Skyrim for more than three weeks (outside of the bandit hideout), he found himself inspired by the beautifulness of the scenery.  
About halfway through their first day, a thief stopped them in an attempt mugging. All Folkvar had to do was reach for his bow and give the would-be thief a glare to send him running. Folkvar was tempted to stick an arrow in the thief's back, but decided against it since Link was watching and he had to set a good example for the boy.

They camped at an abandoned watchtower. Link's head wound healed nicely and his thoughts had cleared. If he thought about something too hard he felt dizzy, but there wasn't much to think about anyway. Folkvar shook him awake the next morning and they continued on their way to Whiterun.  
They reached Whiterun at about midday. As they made their way up to the city to restock their supplies, Link noticed a group of cat people gathered around the first gate selling goods. They had three animal skin tents erected around a camp fire, the largest of which was facing the road and was where the merchant was selling his goods. Link had never seen anyone who looked like cats before. He had seen the lizard people, Argonians, when they stayed at the inn in Riften, and he had seen the Zoras, fish people from hyrule, and Gorons, the peaceful rock eaters of hyrule, but not cats.  
"Folkvar?" Link asked once he was sure they were out of ear shot of the cat people.  
"What is it, lad?" Folkvar looked down at the curious boy.  
"Who were they?"  
"The Khajiit? Mostly pickpockets, thieves, and skooma dealers. They can't be trusted. Khajit are sneaky and agile, but the best traders since they know where to get things."  
"What's skooma?"  
"It's an illegal drug that makes people feel good, like they're half awake and half in a wonderful dream. It's very addictive. Many people have lost themselves to the drug, and you can even loose your life. The Khajiit people are famous for producing it as the main ingredient grows in their home land, Elyswere. You must promise me you will never, ever consider using it."  
"M'kay."

The two rooms in the Bannered Mare were open this time so Folkvar and Link could both sleep in a bed as apposed to the previous times with Folkvar either not sleeping or sleeping while sitting in a chair. Folkvar liked this arrangement very much.  
After their rooms were rented and their supplies restocked at Belethor's Folkvar and Link returned to the Bannered Mare to see if any trading caravans were headed up towards Morthal that needed extra protection.  
"There's a man building himself a big fancy manor in the marshes up there and he needs supplies to build his house," Hulda gossiped. "I hear he's tried hiring the Khajiit Caravan that's in town today but they won't go because it's to risky in marshes without a proper escort. If you hurry, you might be able to convince them to travel to Morthal before they leave for Markarth."  
Folkvar thanked her for her time and took Link with him back down to the Khajiit caravan that had set up camp before the gates.

The caravan was made up of three tents all surrounding a fire pit. In one corner of the tent was a skinning rack and in another was a wood block. The largest tent was facing the main road and a Khajiit trader sat crisscross waiting for customers. Folkvar had given Link specific instructions to let him handle talking to the Khajit. It wasn't that he didn't trust Link to handle it smoothly, he just didn't want to risk Link saying anything awkward.  
"I was told you have had a job offer up in Morthal," Folkvar went straight to the head Khajiit who was sitting dutifully in front of largest tent.  
"Ri'saad confirms this," he answered. "But he does not wish to endanger his life for such little pay, so no, there will be no need to travel to Morthal."  
"Maybe I could change your mind," Folkvar proposed. "You see, the lad and I are headed up there on important business but it would be unwise to travel through the marshes alone. Perhaps if we traveled together..."  
"Ri'saad sees where you are going with this, but the pay is still too little."  
"Ri'saad," a female Khajiit in a white dress and a red apron approached from the inner camp. "The people of Morthal don't usually get traders because all they have there is the lumber mill. The people there should be desperate for things that a trade caravan could bring them. There is much opportunity and there is little risk with two extra travelers."  
"Ri'saad likes this. What is your business in Morthal?" Ri'saad asked.  
"Not something you need bother yourself with. When do we leave?"  
"We will be leaving tomorrow an hour after sunrise."  
"We'll met you here," Folkvar went back up to the city with Link to rest in the inn. They had quite the journey ahead of them.

The next morning Folkvar had to wake Link up since the boy had been reading well past the time that he should have gone to bed.  
"Shor's bones, lad," Folkvar grumbled to himself as Link yawned wearily throughout all of breakfast. "What were you reading?"  
"A book," Link mumbled sheepishly.  
"What book?"  
"Chance's Folly," Link responded through a mouthful of porridge. I wasn't expecting the last chapter."  
"Really?" Folkvar sounded slightly annoyed. He was probably angry that he had to wake Link up. "Next time, let the last chapter wait until the next day and get more shut eye, lad."  
"Sorry," Link mumbled.

Folkvar went over proper horse care while they waited for the Khajit to pack all of their tents and supplies for the journey to Morthal. When that was compleat, Ri'saad, Folkvar, and the caravan's full time bodyguard, Khayla, went over the map while the other trader and her Mage bodyguard eyed Link with suspicion. Most people would find it the other way around with the Khajits being the target of curiosity and suspicion, but Link was not raised to be nervous around the beast folk who hailed from the dessert lands of Elyswere and the Khajit had no idea who, or what, Link was. They had never seen a high elf as short as Link, or as young. And he held himself with much less dignity than any elf they had ever encountered. Most elves in Tamriel where haughty and considered themselves much better than their neighbors. But Link was nervous and shy and almost completely dependent on Folkvar, a Nord. The mystery that was this strange child was to much for the two to resist and before long they approached Link with a friendly conversation.  
"My name is Ma'randu-jo," the Mage Khajit bared his teeth in a way that a Link assumed was the way a Khajit smiled. "This is my friend, Atahbah." His companion made the same face, but her golden brown, lion-like face made the expression much more friendly and inviting than Ma'randu-jo's silvery bobcat complexion.  
"I'm Link," he smiled back nicely.  
"Forgive my question, friend," Atahbah purred. "But my friend and I have not seen an elf like yourself before."  
"I'm not an elf," Link answered. "I'm hylian from Hyrule. It's in the Eltheric Ocean."  
"We have not heard of this place," Ma'randu-jo persisted. "Why is this?"  
"I don't know," Link mumbled.  
"What brought you to Skyrim?" Atahbah pressed.  
"Please, stop," Link whispered. He didn't want to tell his entire life story to a couple of strangers just because they had asked.  
"We are only asking questions," Ma'randu-jo accused defiantly.  
"Ma'randu-jo, Atahbah" Khayla approached the trio and shooed the two nosey Khajit away from the distressed child. "We are ready to start. Do not bother our new companions."  
"Yes, Khayla," they growled grouchily and left to gather their traveling packs.  
"Do not let them bother you, brother," Though she bared her teeth and practically snarled the words, Link felt that they were meant in a friendly manner.

Link and Folkvar had packed most their things, as well as some of the heavier things belonging to the Khajits, onto saddle bags that Ri'saad gave Folkvar as a gift of friendliness. Instead of riding, Folkvar had insisted that he and Link walk so that would be on the same ground as their fellow travelers. Ri'saad had insisted at first that they ride since it would more comfortable for them, but Folkvar would hear nothing of it. After a few hours on the road, Link realized that it was Folkvar's way of saying thank you for the improved saddle bags as wells as showing respect to the merchants where they probably hadn't received it before.  
By the time they were ready set camp, they were half way to Rorikstead. Link hadn't realized the direction they were going until he recognized a set of ruins that they had passed on his second day free from the bandits. That was nearly a month ago but it felt like forever. Their camp was nestled along the mountains. On the other side was Lake Ilinalta and their home. They were also close to the pass that would take them through a tunnel under the mountains and right to the shore opposite their cabin. The camp was sitting in a clearing and was very quiet. The Khajit were discussing something quietly on one side of the camp and somehow their camp had split with Link and Folkvar on one side and the Khajit standing watch under a tree on the other side. Folkvar had offered to take one of the watches, but the Khayla told him that she had already decided that they would rotate with three people a night on watch and that she, Folkvar, and Link would watch tomorrow night.  
"Lad," Folkvar tapped Link's shoulder as the boy day dreamed with his bed roll sitting in lap. "Need help unrolling that?"  
Link snapped out of his reverie and shook his head.  
"What's on your mind, lad?" Folkvar sat down on a fallen log in their side of the camp and stared into fire, keeping Link in his peripheral vision.  
"Nothing," Link said wistfully. He unrolled his pack on a soft spot of mulch after checking it thoroughly for branches and rocks. After he was finished setting up his sleeping arrangements he sat down next to Folkvar and glanced at the man's brooding face for a split second before turning his gaze to the camp fire. Folkvar's jaw may have been concealed under his scruffy beard, but Link felt that he knew him well enough to tell that Folkvar seemed to be tightening and releasing his jaw as if chewing on unpleasant thoughts and the man's crystal blue eyes were burdened by memories that had snuck up on him and caught him unaware.  
"Folkvar?" Link looked up once more and Folkvar's pensive face. Folkvar acknowledged the boy by looking down at the boy's young and curious face. "Do you think my parents are looking out for me, where ever they are? I mean, do you think that when people die they can still... I dunno."  
"I'm sure they would have been proud of you," Folkvar reassured. He ruffled Link hair and then patted him on the back.  
"M'kay," Link mumbled.

The next morning, as they we packing up camp, Khayla approached Link and offered to teach him something.  
"Brother," Khayla got Link's attention. "Would you like to blend into the shadows?" She bared her teeth in the same cat like grimace that was meant to be a Khajit imitation of a smile.  
"How come you call me brother?" Link asked curiously.  
"Because you are my brother in arms," Khayla responded. "So are all those who follow the way of the sword. It is my way."  
"How can I blend into the shadows?"  
"Like this," Khayla proceeded to teach Link about blending in with the back ground and all she knew in the ways of stealth. She even gave him a few pointers on picking locks. By the time they broke their trek to eat lunch, Link felt more skilled than he had ever had before. He even tried some sneaking skills out when he went to relieve himself a distance away from the camp. It wasn't until late into the day, about half an hour before they would set up camp outside of Rorikstead that the commotion started.

The stretch of road looked just like any other stretch that they had passed. Trees and mountains lined one side and vast planes sunk out below them. Link could have sworn he even saw a dragon in the distant skies of the plains at one point. But it was from the trees that the trouble really came from. No one saw the attacker, not even Folkvar, who could spot a rabbit in a bush from half a mile off. It happened too fast for anyone to really comprehend it until afterwards. With a wiz-thump Ma'randu-jo hit the ground, an arrow in his side, right through his heart. He was dead almost instantly after hitting the ground. There wasn't even a rustle in the trees and the attacker was gone. Link had never fully understood what Folkvar had meant by it being unbelievably dangerous out in the wilds of Skyrim until the bobcat Khajit took his final breath in the arms of a wailing Atahbah. Link had never had to help burry a body before either, but Folkvar had insisted that he and Link help Khayla dig the grave.  
"It is a shame he will not be laid to rest in our home land," Ri'saad lamented. The incident wasn't mentioned again.

The marsh was stinky and wet and the road going through it wasn't much better. But the view was still spectacular. After ten minutes in the swamps though, Link decided that he much preferred the forested area of Falkreath and the shores of Lake Ilinalta. Link had never come across mudcrabs so violent before. After just a few hours in the swamps, he, Folkvar, and Khayla had smashed twenty of them. Atahbah had insisted that they keep them for when they went back to there regular rout. They never knew who would pay for mudcrab meat.  
As the sun reached it's peak in the misty sky, Morthal came into view.  
Not much farther now, Folkvar thought to himself. We're nearly there.

He hadn't even the faintest idea of how trying the road was head of him and his his young child. Few who turn into legends ever start their quests knowing what to expect.

* * *

I seriously just made that deadline I promised you guys by fifteen minutes of a hair. Unfortunately, I have some bad news (though for me it's good news). This story will be on hiatus until after my tonsillectomy surgery and recovery period but I promise I will get it back up and running as soon as I get my xbox back up and running. Not only am I looking forward to surgery, but I'slalom in the middle of a move so my Xbox is in storage. I have been using the game to see the story unfold before me as I writing because any writer will tell you that it is so much easer to write when the story is literally unfolding before you. I might even make this into an online comic so if you check out and follow my tumbler (same URL as my pen name), you might find a Hero of the Dragonborn comic so the story is not dead. Believe me guys, I want this story to continue just as much as you.

Don't forget to support my writer's mojo with favorites, follows, and reviews.


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